Na bister 500,000
by romanov16
Summary: Dick has been Robin for four years now. He thinks he's seen it all. But a new threat starts to leave a trail of bodies through Gotham, he and Bruce will have to team up with an old friend of the Grayson family, and uncover secrets that have been buried for more than sixty years. based on the novel Once We Were Brothers
1. Robin

_The characters in the story are owned by D.C comics, not me. save for my OCs_

* * *

"Look at how a single candle can defy and defined the darkness"- Anne Frank.

* * *

Chapter 1

From the time he was a small child, Richard "Dick" Grayson knew that he was unusual by many people's standards.

Both _Gadjo_ (non-Roma) and Rom alike would look at him funny, but for different reasons. And the _really_ weird thing about it was that Dick found the _Gadjo_ stares to be less hurtful more often than not. After all, their stares made more sense.

How often did you met a half-gypsy kid who work as a trapeze artist in a traveling circus? Not often. And despite what many of the elders in the troop would say most were pretty nice, to his six year old way of thinking.

No, it was when the Romani community of Haley's Brothers Circus meet others like themselves that Dick had trouble. The cycle was always the same-the visiting Roma would come in, and be all pleasant...until they saw him. Or more correctly, saw his eyes.

Young Dick's sapphire blue eyes stuck out like a sour thumb among the sea of brown. And unless he wore shades, there was no way to hide them...and therefore no way to stop the inevitable comments that would follow.

(All and all, he thought that ear purges would have been more helpful than shades.)

"Blue eyes!" the visitors would hiss under their breaths and behind their hands, whenever they thought Dick and his family were out of hearing. (They rarely were though.)

"What proper Roma boy has blue eyes?"

"And his _skin!_ If it was any lighter it could past for white!"

"It all comes from that woman Rikárd let his son marry-that _bengesko niamso."_

 _"Noooo...!"_

"You can not be serious! _German_ blood has been allow to mix with our own?"

"Are you sure, she sounds like an American to me...I think she's just a _Rakili."_

"Not as though _that's_ much better."

...when it got to the point where he could stand no more, Dick would sneak off as silently as a shadow, and stay away until the Roma guests left.

It was better for everyone.

That was how and why he came to be where he currently was, up in a large gnarly maple tree a little ways from where the Big Top was set up, outside a city in France, squatting depressedly on the widest branch it had to offer.

 _Why do they always have to be so mean?_ the boy thought furiously as he shredded up some leaves. _I can't help what I look like! And even if I could I wouldn't!_

And that was the truth-his eyes and skin were his inheritance from his mother...they were the _only_ things he had inherited from his mother. Everything else came from his Roma blood. His black hair, high cheek bones, small stature...everything else save his nose. No one seemed to know where his upturned nose came from (the subject was always quickly changed). But unfortunately that didn't seem to be enough.

 _It's not fair._

"It not fair," he muttered out loud. And from below him came an amused sounding reply.

"What is not fair Robin?"

Startled, Dick looked down to see his grandsire and namesake standing beneath him, looking up at his sole grandchild with an _be_ mused expression. Embarrassed at having been caught mopping, he shook his head.

"Nothing _Puri daj,"_ he answered softly.

This caused a white eyebrow to lift. "Oh really? I don't think it's nothing if it can cause a social little bird like you to disappear faster than Houdini."

Dick flushed.

Clucking his tongue the elder Grayson held out arms. "Come down little one."

Without hesitation Dick leapt, free falling a good five feet before grasping a lower hanging branch. After swinging himself around it a couple of times for show (forgetting that there was no one besides his grandfather present) he launched himself forward in the quadruple flip that was the family crowning jewel; before landed safely into a pair of still strong arms, which were as secure as any nest for a young bird.

"Ha! _"_ his grandfather cried out in a bark of a laugh when he caught the falling child. "Dickey you are a wonder! Six years old, and already flying better than most of the professionals! Lord God, I hope I'm here to see you perform as a young man, it will be a jaw-dropper, that's for certain."

Dick beamed at the praised...but then squinted up at that -confused. "Of course you'll be here to see me, where else would you go?"

Rikárd Grayson merely sigh at that as he put Dick down, his face becoming sad. "I may be gone to see the rest of our family by then, Robin."

Dick could feel his unusual eyes widen at that. That was another thing about their family that made them stick out to other Roma...because by Romani standards, the Grayson Clan was _small._ It was just the four of them. Dick, his parents, John and Mary, and his Grandfather. That was it. There was no one else. No Aunts and Uncles. No great Aunts and Uncles. No cousins, no Great Grandparents. Nothing.

And it always made his Grandfather sad to talk about it, so one day, Dick had asked his father...whose reply left even more answers than it solved. In slow halting tones, John had hesitatingly explained a long time ago, bad people had put their family in a place called Out-With when Grandfather had been a boy. And only he had been permitted to leave while the rest had to go somewhere else. That was also where he had gotten the tattoo on his wrist.

Dick knew it well, he had seen everyday of his life. Z-9267. Stamped in uneven lettering on his right arm, in thick blue ink. When Dick had been five, he had taken a ball-point pen to his own arm, and innocently inscribed his own favorite numbers there (he figured Grandfather had done the same thing, because why else would someone get numbers as a tattoo?). So when it was finished, it read R-4813.

The R was for the first letter of his name and nickname that his Mother and Grandfather loved to call him. But when he had proudly show his Grandfather his work...let it be said that it didn't go as the boy had hoped. For as long as he lived, Dick would _never_ forget the abstract terror that had possessed his good humor _Puri daj._ Or how he had screamed about an Angel of Death come back from the dead. And speaking of the dead, Dick himself had been scared half to death!

He had run from the trailer like the Devil was after him, and had hidden himself away in the tallest tree he could, only coming down when he heard his _Mami_ calling his name. As he had sobbingly made his way back down, Dick had spewed apology after apology, and asked what he did wrong, and was Grandfather okay?

"Yes sweetheart," Mary had answered. "Yes he's alright, we calmed him down...but you must never do that with your arm again."

"But why was he so sacred?" Dick had demanded. "It was just numbers, they weren't gonna bite him."

Mary's lips had thinned. "They reminded him of something he is trying very hard to forget. That's all you get to know until your older."

"So Grandson," Rikárd voice brought Dick back to the present. "What dog chased you up a tree this time?"

As he talked, he took Dick's hand and began to walk him back to the camp.

Dick looked down at his superman light-up shoes. "The guest said bad things about me again," he confessed in an ashamed whisper. And just like that, the small smile vanished from Rikárd's face. "Did they now?" he said in a toneless voice, his hand tightening around Dick's. "What was it this time?"

"The same _Puri daj,"_ Dick replied. Raising his voice a few pitches higher, he recited, '"What proper Roma boy has blue eyes?"' "'Why would Rikárd let his son marry an outsider woman instead of a nice Roma girl?"' Dropping his voice back to it's normal (but still high) tone. "Some even called me a _didakai_...a half-breed."

Rikárd's jaw clenched. "Oh they did, did they? Well let me tell you something about _that._ You are Lovari, Dickey. A tribe of Rom that has produced generations of brilliant performers. Our blood comes straight out of Hungary and has been tried and tested again and again. Never let anyone make you feel shame for what you are. And as for the blue eyes...well between you and me, it just sounds like those stuck-up fools are jealous...don't you think?"

Dick had been listening to his Grandfather speech with wide eyes. "Oh wow! _Really?"_

"But of course," Rikárd said as though that should be perfectly clear. "Who else do you know has eyes like yours? It was those eyes that first caught your _Tati_ when he met your _Mami_." Smiling playfully, he ruffed Dick's hair. "And I don't doubt you'll break a few girl's hearts as well."

Dick frown. "I don't want to break anybody's heart. That sounds awful...besides girls are icky. They keep pinching my cheeks."

Rikárd allowed himself to smirk. "'"Dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou will fall backward when thou hast more wit. Wilt thou not, Dickey?"' he quoted from Shakespeare. Seeing his Grandson's blank expression, he simplified it. "One day you won't think girls are inky Robin, I promise you that."

Dick stuck out his tongue. He was not convinced.

* * *

 _Y+J_

...His Grandfather died that winter, due to a stroke. It was quick, and Rikárd was warm in his bed. It was Dick's first experience with death, and many were impressed with how well he handled it. But in truth, he was still little enough to not have a full understanding of what death was.

His Grandfather looked like he was sleeping, he looked peaceful, and after his mother got done comforting his father, she told her son that Rikárd was on his way to see his family now, and live with them.

And that he wouldn't be back. That was what made him cry. "But _we're_ his family!" he had wailed.

"Yes," Mary had said softly as she held her little bird close, his head on her heart. "But we've had him a long time, and his first family missed him terribly. How would you feel if you had to live without your _Tati_ and me for years and years?"

Latter in life, Dick would wonder if those words had jinxed fate.

Because when he was eight years old, his parents died. No, not died. _Murdered._ And their bodies didn't look anywhere near peaceful, broken and bloody as they were. There was no way Dick could pretend that they were sleeping. That they were anything but dead.

He knew now, what death was, and what it could do.

Death made you all alone. Dick was the last of his family...or so he thought.

* * *

 _Y+J_

 _four years latter_

Another shot rang out in the dark, fired by a wide-eyed, trigger happy thug, who was about to lose his mind in this maze of crates. "Show ya'self ya little shit!" the man border-lined screeched, his dark eyes wildly searching the corner of the warehouse that had gone dark without warning...save for one well-known, and loathed cackle to Gotham's underworld.

"Ahh, but what fun would that be?" drawled a mocking voice that was just beginning to deepen into manhood. This only caused two more shots to be blindly fired.

"Missed me! Missed me!" the voice sang out joyfully. The thug screamed now, the muscles in his tattooed face straining, and he began to shoot without any rhythm or reason...if he had any left that is. " _Gah!_ SHUT UP!" he hollered. "WHO-ARE-YA?!"

This caused a noise of surprised to be made. "You don't know? Huh, I guess you must be new around here." And then _again_ with that _fucking cackle_.

"Ya a cocky little dick aren't ya?" the Boston native hissed furiously, while inwardly wondering if he was going insane. When he had sign up for this gig, no one had told him that Gotham was run by loonies at night! Oh, at first everything had gone fine. He and a dozen other guys had just dropped off the crates containing conflict diamonds fresh from the mines of Bialya, and a _hoopla_ of illegal drugs to boots, at the warehouse the boss had told them about, with the promise that there would be hefty little paychecks for themselves.

Then things had gone south, in the form of nightmare spawn of Count Dracula appearing in a cloud of smoke, picking people off with punches that would have sent professional wrestlers running for their mommas. So naturally, he had done the smart thing, and had run for it with three others who wanted to see tomorrow. The warehouse door had barred and locked after they had slipped inside. They had thought they were safe...until the first round of laughter had been heard, echoing off the walls and down their spins.

"Shit!" one of his comrades had sworn. "The Bat brought the Brat."

Well that was helpful. Really made thing clear it did. Well, he couldn't pretend to be a Harvard graduate, but he wasn't totally brain dead. The "Bat" was obviously loony number one, who was wailing on the poor suckers outside. Which meant "Brat" aka loony number two was his accomplice.

Then the lights had flickered, before going off completely. One of the guys had panic and ran like a little bitch...straight into their opponent's hands. The man hadn't gotten five feet when suddenly he was being hulled up into the air, screeching, by a line that had ensnared his ankle, like a trap used to catch animals. From their spot on the ground, the two remaining men could just make out a shadowy figure delivering a knockout punch to their comrade.

"I GOT YOU YA LITTLE-" the other guy had roared as they both raised their guns to shoot the "Brat". But before they could pull the triggers something small and black land before them and released a cloud of throat burning smoke. Choking, he had stumbled away...which mean he had a front row seat for viewing the smooth yet sound thrashing the shadow brat gave to the unfortunate man who had stood besides him.

By this point he had had enough, they weren't paying enough for him to take this shit. So he ran again. But with the warehouse dark, it didn't take long for him to get lost...but it wasn't long at all for the "Brat" to find him, which brought him back to where he was now.

There was a snort. "You don't know the half of it," the voice said drily, in response to his question. "Now," it continued in a light cheery tone. "Not to sound _cliché_...but we can do this the easy way...or the hard way. Take your pick."

Cold sweat was running down his brow now. "Go to hell."

The disapproving clucking of a tongue. "Hard way it is then."

There was the sounds of a nimble figure leaping down from higher levels...and then nothing.

"Where the hell are ya," he muttered to himself.

"Right here," said the voice...from _right behind him._ Instantly whirling around, the only thing he saw was the dark black glove that soon collided with his jaw. Meanwhile, the shadow's other hand slapped away the gun that had still been held in his grasp. After that...well, he was a little burly on what happened after that. Punches. He definitely remembered punches.

Some to the jaw, the stomach, the chest-possibly a few to the head. Quite likely in fact, all things considered. All he knew was that he was soon slinking down a wall, while directly in front of him, the shadow brat was staying just out of the moonlit spot-light provided by the window above them.

"Who...who the hell are ya?" he had managed to chock out.

The shadow brat didn't respond for a moment. But then he stepped into the silvery light, and the man thought his eyes were going to bulge out of his head. Standing before him was a _boy_. A kid who couldn't have been a day older than his youngest brother. (Which, some small part of him had to admit, made him a little glad he hadn't shot him). His head was cover with inky black hair, cut short with bangs that just barley staying out of his masked eyes.

His face was pointed, pixie-like, which perfectly match the hellion's smirk that was twisting his mouth. The kid was slender, wiry. Yet at the same time, it was obvious that underneath his clothing he had some serious muscles (his forming bruises would testify to _that_ ).

And man...what a get-up. The boy wore a black cape with a sunny yellow underbelly, over a scarlet vest with quarter length black sleeves and matching red-black tights. Steel-toed black boot tapped a rhythm on the cold floor. (Well, that explained why his side hurt so bad) and all of it look as though it had been made with some kind of body armor.

"The name's Robin," the boy told him smugly. "And if your going to be hanging around Gotham, than you'll be getting to know me and my partner _real_ well."

"Jesus kid how old are you," the man blurted out. He couldn't stop himself. "Ten?"

Suddenly all merriment was gone from Robin's face.

"I'm _thirteen_ you jerk," the boy growled out, hands clenched.

* * *

 _Review=happy author_

 _Okay, how was that for a first chapter? Thoughts?_


	2. The Meeting

_ThatHydrokinetic: I'm glad your interested, I hope this doesn't disappoint._

 _lleana Mackenzie Collins: I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 _Chapter two_

The man, Alec Rodman was his name, couldn't stop the disbelieving snort that escape him.

" _Thirteen?_ Sure ya are. If ya thirteen than I'm-" But exactly what he was would never be know, because here the kid-Robin-marched up to him, gripped his shoulders, and proceed to throw the older male forward onto his stomach; with perhaps a _bit_ more force than was strictly required. Just a bit. "OW! What the hell ya little...what the _fuck_ are you doing!?"

Robin spared him a brief glance, one corner of his mask raising in place of an eyebrow. "I'm putting handcuffs on you," was his reply, spoken in a _duh you_ _moron_ sort of tone that sent Alec's teeth on edged. On second thought, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he _had_ shot this little prick's head off.

"Who died and made you a cop?" Alec snarled as he began to struggle. But he was a little late...a better time to have started would have been _before_ Robin had slapped a matching set of cuffs onto his ankles. But as it were, all he could do now was wiggle like a caterpillar trying to escape from his cocoon.

Robin watch with poorly disguised amusement. Chuckling, he shook his raven head, which gleam with a undertone of blue in the moonlight.

"Dude, do yourself a favor and _chillax._ Because trust me, if your _chill_ , things will go much smoother for you. But if you more _lax_...well..." Here the boy spread his hands and shrugged in an exaggerated manner. "Then I wish you the best of luck in your interrogation."

Alec scoffed.

"Do ya really think I'm gonna to talk to ya? Ya don't scare me!"

Robin gave off a very gremlin-like smirk. "Oh, I know _I_ don't," he said while slowly retreating into the shadows.

"...but I _guarantee_ Batman will."

With that he was gone.

"H-Hey!" Alec yelped, his eyes going wide. " _Hey!_ Ya can't just leave me here-"

"He _didn't,_ " replied a low _monstrous_ voice, that sounded as though it's owner had been gargling rocks. Alec's stomach barely had time to churn before a iron-hard fist closed around the collar of his shirt...and lifted him clean off the ground, clean off his feet-

And brought him face to face with Satan himself.

Alec's eyes were suddenly to big for their sockets. His lungs refused to take in air, his heart had stopped beating. The terror that gripped him was unholy. The face- _mask_ -he was being forced to gaze into was both awesome, and horrible beyond description. Those white lenses instead of eyes!

"W-who," Alec gasped out. "Who are ya?" His terror reached a peek when those enraged eyes narrowed, and the fists that held him brought even closer, till they were almost nose to nose.

"I'm Batman," the demon growled, before throwing him against the wall again.

As the man desperately squirmed back against the wall, the Batman loom over him, so that Alec was trapped in his shadow. "And you're going to tell _exactly_ what I want to know."

* * *

Y+J

At this point in his best friend's narrative, Wallace "Wally" West was leaning forward on the edged of his seat. "Come on bro, you can't stop there! What happened next!" the red-haired speedster cried, his agitation showing in the rapid thumping of his leg-to the point where it was vibrating.

At fifteen years of age, Wally was two years older than Dick Grayson, and therefore more muscular and obviously taller...which he never forgot to point out teasingly.

The two boys were lounging in the game room of Wayne manner, their Mario Kart paused mid-race on the one hundred and ten inch flat-screen TV. Laid out on giant, cushion-like pillows, they took turns swiping handfuls of nachos from the bowel between them.

Dick cackled evilly. "There's not much to tell Wall-man. The guy was about ready to wet his pants at that point. He was spilling his guts in no time."

"Well be fair dude, ou can't re'lly lame 'im," Wally said from around a mouth stuffed to bursting. Dick's face crinkled in disgust.

"Dude! Chew with your mouth close will you? Your spraying bits everywhere! You _want_ Agent A to have a reason to add nachos to his list of banned food? Because you now he'll be more than happy too!"

Wally paled at the thought. He swallowed quickly. "Right. Sorry. But that can't be all! Did you guys get what you were after?"

Some of the glee vanished from Dick's face. "Well...yes and no. Kinda. Turns out Bruce was right about who's behind the new drug and diamond ring I told you about. The guy's name Tomasz Jankowski."

Wally blink. "Um...I'm not seeing the problem here. Isn't that a _good_ thing that you know the guy's name?"

"Yeah, it would be," Dick snorted. "If the dude wasn't a philanthropist with pockets deep enough to rival Bruce's."

Wally nearly choked on his soda. "No way! Dick, I thought you said no one in Gotham came close to being as rich as you," the older teen hero sputtered, dumbfounded.

"Jankowski isn't from Gotham," Dick explained weary. "He's a business man from California who's happens to own the number one jewelry company in America. And now he's in town for the spring party season. He arrived back in March, just a few days after my birthday." Now Dick's youthful face darken significantly. And as soon as Jankowski had rolled into town, the number of people being killed in shoot-outs over the stupid rocks had skyrocketed. There had been a dozen in the first week alone.

Two of them had been kids. Brothers. Ben and Jacob Solomon, ages seventeen and sixteen, who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and were survived by their utterly shattered parents. God knew how many more could possibly be joining them, if this kept into the summer. Dick scowled furiously. He refused to let happen. Batman and Robin would put a stop to it.

Wally was watching him with concern, not liking the intense, almost brooding look that was on his friend's face. It was a little to close to the Bat's for his comfort. Dick was not suppose to look like that. "Hey, it's okay man," he told him as reassuringly as he could. "Sooner or later you'll nail this guy. You always do."

Dick smiled at little at that...or tired to. "Thanks...but it just gets so _frustrating_ sometimes. I've been listening to the whole of Gotham sing Jankowski's praises on what a humanitarian he is, with his little save the whales programs and gazillions dollar donations to charities, all the while people are getting killed over his crap on the streets! Not to mention all the people who are going to die in Biayla because of the insurgeries getting finance by this...why is he even doing this Wally? He needs the money about as much as Bruce does...and did you know the guy's going to be at Wayne Charity auction this weekend?"

Wally was biting his lip, not sure what he could say to that. And not for the first time, he marveled on how lucky he was to be Kid Flash instead of the Boy Wonder. The numbers of times where he and his mentor had to work with cases and crooks this twisted were second to none. But it seem that Dick had to deal with this crap every other week.

"I don't know buddy, I really don't."

Dick must have read the discomfort on his face, because his own instantly became apologetic. "Ah I'm sorry Wally, I didn't mean to unload all this crap on you. I'm ruining our time-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, _hold it_ ," Wally interrupted immediately, holding up a hand. "Dick, you're not ruining anything. I'm your friend, and best friends are supposed to listen to each other's problems, even if they don't have any answers."

And man oh man...Wally wished he did have the answers, or the super power to wave a magic wand and fix everything, just to wipe that look of Dick's face, if nothing else. "But how this. Give yourself the evening off. No talking or thinking about Hero stuff at all. Zip. Zero. _None_. And I'll let you choose the next race course."

That got the younger boy grinning again. "Kay, but you're going to regret that."

With that said, Dick unpaused the game and selected the next race.

Wally groaned. _"Dude!"_

Dick's face was the picture of innocence. "Hey, you said I could choose!"

"But you know I hate Rainbow Road!"

"That's because you can't go more than five seconds without falling off," the younger said smugly.

* * *

Y+J

The next day, Dick was walking out of his school towards the pick-up/drop off section, alongside his friend Barbara. Two years his senior, Dick had cherished a crush on the brainy redhead, which the girl had tolerated with equal measure exasperation and amusement. The one time he had worked up the courage to ask her on a date, Barbara had let him down as gentle as she could, saying that he was to young for her, and that his crush was just that-puppy love.

But he wasn't at all discouraged. Barbara had been the first person who had been kind to him when he had first started attending Gotham Academy, and he was attached to her. She was perfect! So he was content to wait for himself to grow up a little. Despite what Wally would tease, he knew he wouldn't remain small forever. Then he could have her.

So immense was he in his musings, that Dick didn't became aware of the two people, and elderly man and a mid-teens girl, approaching Barbara and himself until they were less then a dozen feet away-had they gotten any closer he would have been ashamed to call himself a Bat. Especially since both of them were dragging heavy-looking suitcases that made it look as if they had just come from the airport, and that one off them-on first impression-seemed a little...off.

"My God Esther, my God," the elderly man was murmuring to the girl in a too-loud whisper, much to the her chagrin. He was staring directly at Dick. "Did I tell you, didn't I tell you? It has to be him. He is the spiting image-"

"I know _Saba_ I know," the girl-Esther-agreed softly, patting the older man's hand, clearly all too aware of the odd looks the other students were throwing them. She was a nice looking girl, dressed sharp in pink blazer over a designer orange dress. Her hair was auburn-black, rich and curly with emerald eyes and classical features. Dick was quick to note that the only jewelry she wore was a Star of David necklace. This little fact combined with her looks and the accent the pair had, made him guess that they were Israelis.

Which left the obvious question. _What are Israelis doing at our school?_ _Were they lost or something?_

After exchange a look with Barbara, Dick stepped forward.

"Um hey there,'' he said politely. "Can we help you with anything?" Unfortunately, this lead to things getting even stranger. "And his _voice!"_ the old man cried out, clenching his head with one hand. He was a tall grandfatherly looking figure, which made sense seeing that he was likely Esther's grandfather, given how comfortable she seemed with him. "My God, my _God."_

Dick sifted uncomfortable. _Okaaaay..._

The blaring of a car horn interrupted the awkward moment. Barbara turn her head around to look over her shoulder. "That's my dad...Dick are you okay?" And while she didn't say it, her bright blue eyes gleam with a hidden message. _Do you want me to sent him over here?_

Dick nodded non-chalantly and waved her off.

"Yeah I'm good Babs, thanks." he told her, declining her offer. He could understand her concern -this would hardly be the first time someone had tried to kidnap him- but these people didn't seem dangerous to him.

Barbara looked hesitant, but eventual nodded, when her father honked again. "Okay...see you tomorrow."

With that she was gone, and Dick turned back to the Israelis. Esther was looking at him imploringly. "Please, may we have just a minute of your time? I assure you it is very, very important," she said pleadingly.

Dick bit his lip, and shifted his backpack to his shoulder. "Um sure. Who are you?"

Esther open her mouth to response, but her grandfather beat her too it.

"Of course, my name is...is," for a moment he falter, looking as though he was debating something. After a moment he had it. "My given name is Elijah Goldstein, and this is my granddaughter Esther. And you don't need to give me your name _zun._ I know who you are."

Here Esther let out a little moan. "Way to make it sound like we're stalking him _Saba._ At this rate we'll be in jail before the day's out and Aunt Naomi will have to bail us out."

Dick ignore that in favor of staring at Elijah incredulously.

"Err, sir? I think you got me confused with someone else. I don't know you from anywhere."

Elijah's green eyes -identical to Esther's- gleamed with a touch of warm mischief behind his spectacles.

"Ah, but that dose not matter, for I know _you_ Dick Grayson," he told him warmly. "You are John and Mary's little boy. Rikárd's Robin."

* * *

 _Review make me happy, if you want more review and tell me what you thought!_

 _Okay, so this story takes place a few month before the Team was form-Dick has just turn thirteen, and how are you likening the story so far? Any guess on where this is going_


	3. Hard Turth and an Old Photo

_ThatHydrokinetic: I hope this answers some of your questioning_

 _KaliAnn: I'm glad to have caught your attention_

 _lilywhitekockhaletheblackose: I hope you love this chapter too! Keep reviewing!_

 _KaliAnn: dually noted, we're getting into that discussion._

* * *

 _Chapter three_

Dick nearly stumbled backwards, the blood draining clean out of his face from shock. Of all the things he'd imagine the old man telling him... _that_ hadn't even been on the list. Elijah Goldstein's words were running a loop through his head: an echo of a life long passed.

 _Your are John and Mary's little boy. Rikárd's Robin._

 _Rikárd's_ **_Robin._**

... _Nobody_ outside his family knew about the nickname his mother and grandfather had bestowed on him. Due to abounded research Bruce had made sure of _that,_ way back when his ward first made the decision to use the pet name as his hero's identity. That was crucial for his safety and security.

To heard himself being called Robin -even if it wasn't necessarily _that_ Robin- while dressed in civvies was more than enough to sent the boy into panic mood. _How the heck_ did this ancient little Israeli man know his most guarded secret!?

Did he -Dick's breath caught in his throat- did the man _know?_

"W-what?" he stammered out. "What did you call me?"

Esther and her grandfather took a step closer to him, concern written across their faces.

"Your not going to faint are you?" the girl asked worriedly. This insult to his maleness snapped Dick back to himself a bit. Replying with a firm _no he was **not** , _the boy readjusted his stance and stood at his tallest height, his hands clenching the strap of his backpack like a life-line until his knuckles were bleached white.

 _Chill Grayson, there's no reason to panic - not yet,_ he forced himself to think logically. _If you panic, people will think you have something to hide._

Pulling himself together -well at least more together than he was few minutes ago- he took a deep breath and look the old man dead in the eye.

"Um, Mr. Goldstein sir, h-how do you know this about me?" he asked in a reasonable tone. His eyes suddenly widening, he swallow hard before he asked his next question. "Did...did you know my parents?"

Goldstein's faces morphed from concern to sorrow so fast, it was almost theatrical -a perfect tragedy. Sadly, he shook his balding head.

"No _zun_ ," he answered, voice soft with regret. "No, as much as I wish otherwise, I didn't know your parents well at all -especially your mother. The Grayson that I knew was your grandfather...he was the best and dearest friend I ever had. If it were not for him, I would not be alive."

* * *

Y+J

Dick found himself blinking rapidly as he tried to weight the creditability of the man's statement.

 _...It could be true_ , he reasoned carefully. In fact, it was highly passible. His Grandfather had been a lively, charismatic man. And as a Circus Romani he had lived a full, well traveled life. It was highly probable that at one point he swung by the Middle East, and made fast friends with the people there.

But still...even if that was the case, something didn't add up. Even if this man _was_ a friend of his Grandfather, why was he here? People from half way around the world didn't just get up one morning and say "Oh, I think I'll go track my old friend's grandkid that lives who-knows-where!"

That just didn't happen -not without a reason.

Then he processed the rest of what Goldstein had said. The best and dearest friend he had ever had...that would indicated that Goldstein and his Grandfather -if what he said was true- had know each other for a long time, and known each other well. You didn't use endearments like that for a person you met once in a while.

"I knew Rikárd from the time he was a boy no older than nine," Goldstein said with a reminiscing grin, and Dick started a bit.

Okay - _creepy._ It was as though his thoughts had been read. That was disturbing; heavy on the _dis_.

Meanwhile the eighty-some man continued to speak. "We were schoolmates together before the War, and again after it...Lord God, and in-between was the best of times and the worst of times. To this day I don't know how we survived it..."

Here his voice broke and trailed off-his gaze more than a million miles away, seeing something that was invisible to the rest of the world.

His expression quickly became a curious combination of joy and sorrow, of laughter and terror, with an overdose of total agony. It that a look that turned Dick's stomach. He was no stranger to it, he knew it well. After all whenever he thought of his parents, a similar expression use to make itself at home on his features, back in those God-awful early months after their deaths.

It was a look belonging to all who knew what it was to suffer.

And as it turned out, Esther wasn't a stranger to seeing look such a look on her _Saba_ either. Her entire demeanor softened as she reached out, and grasped Goldstein's hand. "But you did survive it _Saba_. I'm living proof of that. You survived and it's over now. It's over."

Elijah Goldstein smiled sadly at his granddaughter. "My sweet girl, I love for what you are trying to do, but it will never be over until I close my eyes for eternity."

...Well at this point, it seem to Dick that both of the Israeli had forgotten him. He squirmed slightly, and shifted from one foot to the other, uncertain. For once in his life, he didn't know what to do.

But thankfully salvation arrived in the form of Alfred. Dick looked over his shoulder to see the faithful butler turning into the parking lot in a vintage Rolls Royce. Restraining himself from let loose a sigh of relief, he cleared his throat to regain attention. Where two pairs of emerald eyes turned back to look at him, the boy offered a charming, apologetic smile and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Well, it was nice meeting the both of you, but I have to go now -my ride's here. Bye."

But if he had thought that would be the end of this bizarre conversation, he was very much mistaken. Goldstein's face fell like a sail depraved of wind, and Dick had an uncomfortably sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

 _"Go?"_ the elderly man echoed, looking heartbroken. "Must you? there is so...so much more...I _must_ tell you."

Great now he felt guilty. His conscience warring with his common sense, Dick's sympathy soon emerged victorious, as it usually did. Throwing Alfred a quick look, he saw his de-facto grandfather raise a sardonic eyebrow at him. Dick waved him over, mouthing "It's important".

When Alfred nodded, Dick returned again to the Goldsteins. But they did not seem to be paying him any mind. They were to busy looking over the top of Dick's head at Alfred. Esther watch with curiosity, but her Grandfather look pensive.

"I may be getting old, but I'm sure my eyes do not deceive me," the man said quietly. "That is not Bruce Wayne. Does your guardian not care to pick you up from your school, Dick?"

Dick and Esther both whipped their heads around to face Elijah Goldstein with looks of pure disbelief (and in Esther's case horror).

" _Saba_ now is not the time!" she exclaimed pleadingly, while in the meantime, Dick was feeling his sympathy morph into irritation at an alarming rate. Just who did this guy think he was?

"He does sometimes," he said harsher tone than before. "But he can't always. He's too busy with his work."

"Is that so?" Goldstein asked softly. His next question was even more audacious. "Is Mr. Wayne good to you?"

Because his heckles had been raised, Dick missed the genuine concern in the question. "Of course he is!" Dick snapped indignantly, his blue eyes flashing. "And what business is it of _yours?"_

But to the amazement of everyone present, rather than becoming angry or flustered at Dick's temper, Elijah Goldstein chose to laugh instead. To throw back his head and laugh to the perpetually gray Gotham sky above them.

"Oh good God Miriam," he chuckled a bit more softly after a moment. " It seems that the Grayson temper hasn't died out...do you think that's a good thing are a bad thing?"

Dick blinked. Well he was officially lost.

"Um...who's Miriam?"

Esther made a little choking noise in the back of her throat, and dropped her head into her hands -muttering about how her Grandfather was going to get them thrown into an asylum. Goldstein shushed her.

"Don't exaggerate Essie, we're fine," he reassured her before answering Dick. "Miriam is my wife, and she was another friend of Rikárd. Dearer than a sister to him. You would _not believe_ the trouble the two of them would get into, me and Marika used called them Bonnie and Clyde..."

Here he trailed of... _again._ And it was also at this point that Alfred reached them. Coming forward to stand besides Dick, the Englishman placed a hand on his youngest ward's shoulder.

"Good evening sir, miss," The old gentleman greeted the pair before him with his customary stiff upper lip, giving out brief nods of acknowledge. Goldstein let out a gentle hum at that, obviously impressed. " My name is Alfred Pennyworth. May I ask whom you are, and what you are discussing with my charge?"

Goldstein's respect was growing by the minute...he coughed, looking a little embarrassed. "Ah, yes I realize that this is all very...unusual."

 _Understatement,_ Dick thought in a tone dry enough to make the Butler besides him proud. "My given name is Elijah Goldstein though for many years now, I've gone by Goldson, and this is my grandchild, Esther."

"Hello," Esther said a little shyly. "It is very nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Esther," Alfred returned with genuine warmth, clearly sensing the skittish deer-like personality of the young lady. "Now -Mr. Goldson was it? What was your business with Master Richard?"

Goldstein-Goldson- was silent for a moment before answering.

"Well, I suppose that I'm here today to paid an old debt...and honor a older friendship. You see, many years ago, I lived with the Grayson family-they saved my life. I would have never survived the camps without Rikárd -"

Those last few words grabbed hold of something deep within Dick's mind.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," he interrupted. "Camps? What camps?"

That stopped Elijah Goldson dead in the middle of what he was saying, and he started at Dick with open astonishment.

"What do you mean "what camps"?" the elderly man asked, totally dumfounded. "The Nazi death camps of course."

In that moment, Dick really did stumble backwards. He may have exactly hit the ground if Alfred hadn't caught him, which was quite the feat given the stun shock that had fallen over his own face.

Dick started at the Goldson, his eyes widen to unnatural lengths.

" _What?"_

* * *

Y+J

"What did you say?" Dick asked again -well, demanded might have been a better word. He had to because he couldn't believe what he had just heard...he couldn't process it. Regaining his footing, he pulled his arm from Alfred's grasp, and stared down Goldson with an unrelenting glare.

It was just...what he had just said was incredible. It was impossible!

His sassy, happy-go-lucky Grandfather...a _camp survivor?_ Involuntary, flashes of scenes from the _Boy in the Striped Pajamas,_ which he had done his summer reading on last year (and he had read the book and watched the movie) zipped throw his mind.

Scenes of staving, dead-eyed people, rounded up and marked for death behind barbed wire...his entire being recoiled from it. It was impossible, he _refused_ to believe it. But even as this conviction took hold of his psyche...Dick started to pock holes in it.

...If Goldson was telling the truth then so many of his family's peculiarities would be explained. Peculiarities like why his family had been so small, and why people had thrown hissy fits over his parents' marriage.

It would explain his Grandfather's demons...and it would explain his tattoo.

But...but why would his Grandfather be in a _camp?_ That didn't add up. The Grayson family was Catholic not Jewish, they never had been. And why would they take in a _Gadjo?_

While this whirlwind of thoughts were tearing though his mind, Goldson was returning his glare with a shell-shocked one of his own.

"My God you don't know..." he muttered softly, his head shaking in sheer disbelief. "Rikárd and your parents never told...of course they didn't. They must have been waiting until you were older. God knows me and Miriam didn't - _couldn't_ \- tell our children until they were well into their teen years."

Letting out a miserable sounding laugh, Elijah added, "And here I have blurted it out like a damn fool. I'm sorry _zun._ "

At this point, Dick was just staring at him, speechless.

Luckily, Alfred had managed to pull himself together.

"This is...a rather extraordinary claim," the butler said after a moment, his outwardly calm front bringing a sense of order to a situation that had spun out of all control. "And I'm afraid that such a claim cannot be given credit solely on the word of a stranger...Do you have proof that you were in fact a friend of Master Dick's family, sir? A photo, a letter of some sort..."

"Oh yes, yes," Goldson said instantly, his head nodding furiously. "Essie, where did I-"

"You put the picture in your wallet, _Saba_ ," Esther said helpfully.

"Right, of course..."

Goldson reached into his pocket and withdrew a old, ware and tear wallet. It was so beat down that Dick thought that it had to have sentimental value, seeing of how badly it contrasted with the Goldsons well dressed, moderately pricey style. And from that sad piece of leather, a trembling hand pulled a folded yellowing picture. "Here you are," Elijah said softly, holding out. "If that isn't proof then I don't know what is."

Feeling oddly detached from himself, Dick took the offered paper, and unfolded it as careful as the Charlie from Willy Wanaka had his Golden Ticket. It was a old black-and-white photo, and the contents of it made his breath catch. Four grinning teens, dressed in top-notch 40's clothing, were standing on the edged of a public fountain, in the middle of a European style plaza.

Their arms were thrown around each other's shoulders, their heads tossed back in laughter. Three boys, and one girl. One of the boys in the picture had the same birth mark on his lower right cheek as Goldson did, so he was easily identified.

But the other three were strangers to him...and yet at the same time, they weren't -if for no other reason than the _little_ fact that the other boys could have been his _carbon copies_. Even in the girl's pretty features, Dick could see a little bit of himself. He could see in their thin bone structures, in the shape of their ears, and most importantly in the zesty, happy-go-lucky smiles that were threatening to spit their faces. The boys seemed to be seventeen, fourteen, and thirteen respectively, the girl was a mid-teen.

"My God," Alfred gasped, his legendary composure showing a few rare cracks as he peered over Dick's shoulder.

"I take it this is sufficient proof for you...if I'm judging your expressions correcting," Goldson said softly, his hands seeming to clench reflexively. In response, Dick could only nod his head; and his voice was small when he asked, "Who...who are they?"

Elijah gave him a sad smile. "The correct phrasing would who _were_ they _zun_...and if you wish to know, just flip it over."

Without hesitation, Dick did so. Written in ink at the bottom corner were these words: _Janos, Soraya, Rikárd és Soren_ _Grayson. 1942._

Suddenly there was a tight knot in the boy's throat, and his tongue was too big for his mouth. "T-this is my-"

"The boy standing besides me is your grandfather Rikárd, the other two were his siblings, Janos and Soraya...your Aunt and Uncle," then Elijah swallowed hard, before adding, " _Uncles_ if you wish to include me. While I lived with them I was called Soren. They were my family...for the longest time, they were all I had in this world. Their hospitably was all that stood between me and oblivion."

* * *

Y+J

In all of his guises Bruce Wayne was -by both nature and necessity- cautious and calculating. As a business man, he had carefully steered his international mega-corporation through and around obstacles that had brought other companies to there knees.

As a socialite, he turned a deaf ear to the songs and lure of upper-curst husband hunters (or vultures, Dick had taken to calling them). As Batman, he planed his attacks weeks before execution, leaving very little to up to change...a process that had intensified when a certain young acrobat had joined his crusade.

And as a father, he keep a close eye on anything concerning his boy.

Not that Dick knew that -it would frustrate his fiercely independent, newly teenage (god help them all) son if he new just how closely he was monitored. And not just him but the people in contact with him-from teachers to classmates, and friends to acquaintances.

So when he came home to find Dick and Alfred sitting in his office with two total strangers...he was understandably caught off his guard.

For a moment, he just stood there in the door way, taking in the scene playing out before him. The four of them were seated on the sofa that rested in front of the fireplace, a medium size safety box place between them. Which had four pairs of hands pulling out it's contents- a multitude of yellowing papers- and laying them out on the coffee table.

Bruce didn't have the faint clue as to what those papers were, but he could tell that they meant something to Dick, given the awestruck look that had come over his face...and the little fact that his son was so absorbed in what he was doing, he hadn't even noticed his guardian enter the room.

Bruce cleared his throat. "What's going on here?"

* * *

 _Review make me happy, if you want more review and tell me what you think_ _So next chapter will get into how Elijah became friends with Rikard, and the members of the Grayson family in ww2_


	4. Pictures are Worth a Thousand Words

_KaliAn: I'm glad you think so_

 _ThatHydrokinetic: I hope this lives up to your expectations!_

* * *

 _chapter 4_

The reactions his words caused were almost comical. The moment they left his mouth, the attention of the four occupants in Bruce's study snapped to him-their expressions varying from shock to guilt and, in the elderly man's case, unbridled curiosity.

But Dick's topped them all. "B-Bruce!" the boy stammered out, as he instinctively leaped from his spot on the over-stuffed sofa...only to be force to bend at the waist in a mad scrambled to catch a multitude of papers, which had been seated on his lap, from falling to the floor. They seemed to be...letters. And to judge from the coloring of them, they were old letters at that.

"I didn't-I mean...your home!"

"Yes I'm home," Bruce agreed, privately thinking that if his son couldn't tell that a person was coming until _they_ announced it, then Batman and Robin would to have a particularly concentrated training session on Detection and Sensatory Awareness in the near future. But back to the matter at hand...there were two total strangers in his house.

One was a attractive young girl only a few years older than Dick, and that alone sent off a barrage of red flags in Bruce's mind. But he was quick to dismiss _those_ theories upon observing her shy, nervous disposition and the well mannered way she held herself.

The other was an older man well into his eighties, too old to be considered a physical threat-providing that he was a normal man, and not some long lived villain along the lines of Ra's Al Ghul. But even if he was just an ordinary mortal man, there was a fiercely intelligent gleam in his eyes as they observed _him._ This man was clever. And judging by the similarity in their eye shape and color, he was a relation of the girl.

Careful to keep his posture non-threating, Bruce stroved into the den in an unhurried manner. Allowing a polite look of interest to cover his face and his suspicions, he calmly said, "But I wasn't aware that we were having company his afternoon. Dick are these your guests?"

Smiling sheepishly, one of Dick's hands reached up to grip the back of his head in his normal nervous habit.

"Um, yeah you could say that-but in my defense," the boy added quickly, as he guardian let out a disapproving breath threw his nostrils -for security reasons, Dick wasn't allowed to have guests over without informing Bruce- "I didn't plan this. Heck, I've never even seen them before today...they kinda sprung this on me...but Alfred gave me the go-ahead."

Despite the situation, that admittedly caused Bruce's lips to twitch. _Oh, throwing Alfred under the bus are you kiddo? That going to cost you at least two nights worth of dessert._ Out loud, he asked, "Is that true Alfred?"

To judge from the raised eyebrow of the mention butler, Alfred didn't much care for being thrown into the spotlight at _all_ , despite being a ex-theater man. After giving his youngest charge a surprisingly dignify stink eye, Alfred cleared his throat and stood to help Dick collet his papers. Yes, now that Bruce was closer, he could positively assess that they were in fact letters, some dating as far back as 1937...did Dick have some sort of history project due that he wasn't aware of? Not that that convincingly explain the presences of the mystery guests.

"I must confess that it is Master Bruce," Alfred confirmed flatly, though his eyes gleamed. "Though I assure you that the circumstances under which I gave may permission were so extraordinary, I could do nothing else." Bruce raised a questioning brow, and motioned for him to continued.

So on cue, Alfred turned to the guests, and nodded at each of them in turn. "May I present Master Elijah Goldson and his granddaughter Esther-" Bruce immediately noted slight huff of amusement the man-Goldson-released at the title Alfred bestowed upon him. It wasn't mockery-just amusement. And perhaps a bit nostalgic.

Meanwhile Alfred continued. "And the reason they have been cordially invited to our home is that nearly sixty years ago...Master Elijah was a member of Master's Dick's family."

And just like that, Bruce could feel that small, polite smile vanish from his face as though it had never been there.

* * *

Y+J

"Excuse me?" Bruce said sharply, his softer approach dissolving. Even as Esther jump in her seat at his change in tone, Bruce was fixing her grandfather with stare that was only a few degrees lesser than the Bat Glare. "What proof do you have of this?"

The time for fun and games was long over, because if one thing had remained the same throughout the ages, it was the conveniently time appearance of long lost relatives of wealthy people. In the early years after the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne, Bruce had dealt with no less than five low-life conmen impersonating illegitimate half-siblings, cousins, and a great uncle.

Oh, each and every act had been kicked to the curve in under ten minutes, but the sheer audaciousness of it left a bitter tast in Bruce's mouth, even to this day.

And the though that someone might be trying to do that to Dick caused a cold, blind fury to rise within him.

But Goldson didn't cower. Matter of fact...he almost seemed _pleased_ by his newly hostile front, humming in approving way. While this was happening, Dick quickly came forward.

"It's good Bruce," his boy told him hurriedly, his blue eyes wide and imploring. "It not a hoax or anything like that. I _know_ it's not. Their telling the truth. Elijah really _did_ know my family. The things he knows, and the things he been telling me-"

"What things Dick?" Bruce demanded to know in as rational a tone as he could managed. "What things does he know? What has he been telling you?"

 _What has he been filling your head with?_ That was what Bruce was really asking. And everyone in the room knew it. And if one was to go by his rapidly flushing face, Dick did _not_ appreciate having his judgment question like this.

"Well for one thing, I'm apparently the descendant of World War Two camp survivors," he shot back hotly.

 _"What?"_

* * *

Y+J

Ever since Bruce had taken up the mantle of the Cape Crusader, he could count on one hand the number of times he was totally and completely caught off guard. And he remembered them all...the most memorable of them being the day a certain little bird wormed his way into his heart.

And this came close to trumping even that. Realizing that his mouth was hang open, he quickly closed it.

Elijah Goldson took advantaged of the moment, and rose gradually to his feet with the assistance of his granddaughter.

"Thank you Essie," he murmured lovingly to her before straightening up and clearing his throat.

"Mr. Wayne," he said formally, looking him dead in the eyes, and extending his hand in a peaceful gesture. "I understand that you are young Dick's guardian, and because of that it does me good to see just how much you truly care for him. That takes a heavy burden off my shoulders...at my age, they could not have held it for long. I understand that my presence here is...unexpected to say the least. So I will make some things perfectly clear: I swear on the soul of my mother that the last thing I want to do is hurt this boy in any way, shape or form.'

'Though I can claim no blood relation to him, I nevertheless see him as a part of my family, as much so as Esther. Sixty years ago, I was the closest friend of his grandfather...together we survived the worst hells ever placed on this earth...hells that devoured both of our families whole. Two in my case. Please...come and sit, and I will explain further...you'll pardon me, but it's hard for a old geezer to stay standing for very long."

Bruce stared at Elijah, open mouthed again. Every word that Goldson had spoken had rung with truth. As both of Bruce's lives depended on him being able to weed out liars, he knew one when he saw it, and he knew this.

Whatever Goldson was...he was no liar.

Or if he was, he was a very good one.

But Dick was watching him intensely, as was Alfred. Both of them clearly believed what was being told to them, and neither of them were easily fooled. So for now, Bruce decide to go along with them before coming to a decision on how to proceed.

* * *

Y+J

"So what's all this then?" Bruce asked as he sat in an armchair, gesturing to the mess on the coffee table.

"This, Mr. Wayne, is all that remains of a lost way of life," Goldson replied in a softer, almost delicate tone. Reaching out, he caressed a few papers as gently as he would a baby. "After the War-after the camps-me and Rikárd traveled all over Europe-well, all over the Europe we could reach before the Iron Curtain split the continent- colleting the letters and pictures that the Grayson family sent out over the years. We had to find them; they were the sole remaining proof that they had existed at all, besides Rikárd and myself. I'll also admit that it was somewhat therapeutic for us...a-a way of trying to cope with the fact that they were gone..."

Goldson broke off here and looked away suddenly, blinking hard. "I am so sorry," he muttered. "I have only ever spoken of this to a few people, and it never gets any easier. Forgive me."

"Oh _Saba_ ," Esther whispered sadly.

Alfred immediately retrieved a tea kettle from the fire place, and hasten to fill a cup.

"You have nothing to apologize for sir," he said feelingly, as he handed the drink to Elijah. "And believe me, none of us will judge you for any tears you happen to shed...if there is one thing the people of this household understand, it is the lingering pain which loseing loved ones can cause."

Goldson paused and considered that; his face growing thoughtful as he ran his emerald gaze over Dick and Bruce, seeing the evidence of this statement for himself. "Yes...I supposed they do."

Bruce felt a good deal of his skepticism diminish at the note of simple compassion in the elderly man's voice. Not pity, not sympathy, but complete and total _empathy_ at it's finest. Few people were that good an actor. And all of the paper seemed authentic, to his critical eye.

Which meant everything he said could very well be true.

Bruce wasn't sure how he felt about that, after all...what would that mean for Dick?

"Now then, I think I've had enough time for silliness," Elijah said, wiping his face dry with his hand. "Now back to our original purpose..."

With that Goldson removed from the safety box an portfolio case-an old leather one, the name _Janos Grayson_ carved neatly into it's front.

Dick's breath hitched, and Elijah smiled as he removed some of the contends from its folds. Photos-a great number of black and white photos, and a stack of thick, equally antique notebooks.

"This is your grandfather's family Dick Grayson," the old man said, as he plucked out a few select pictures and leaned forward so they all could see. Dick was all but out of his seat.

"These fine people were his parents- Dymitr and Zoya. God rest their souls," Elijah commentated lovingly, placing on the table a photo of a young couple in their early twenties. The man was a towering figure, tall and muscular in a way that spoke of a life time of hard work. He was a handsome fellow too, with noble features that spoke of keen intelligent and firm convictions.

His wife made just as powerful an impression, though in a slightly different way. She was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her image, with her dark exotic eyes, high cheekbones, and a waterfall of thick raven tresses that tumbled down her shoulders. Her stance was gentler than her husband's, but no less certain, give the proud tilt to her chin. They were seated before a horse pulled wagon, in what appeared to be winter, given the snow on the ground.

"They were wonderful people who work for everything they had, and wonderful parents too. They loved their children more than anything else in this world. And they had enough of that love to extended it to a miserable Jewish boy who came crawling to them for protection when the Germans rolled into town," Goldson chough then, and chuckled grimly. "Well, truthfully Rikárd and his brother all but dragged me to their wagon step by step...and Jan had to threaten to knock me unconscious and stuff me into a sack. And he would have to."

He pulled out another picture, this one a close up of the oldest boy from the first photo he had show earlier that day. It's subject was up in a tree, lazily stretch like a cat, one leg folded over the other. His face was turned to whomever had taken the image, reveling a good looking young man with no small amount of charm in his features, as he was forever tilting his hat to the camera. Resting on his lap was a notebook...one of the very notebooks that rested against Elijah's side.

"Jan was the oldest of us kids, so the role of "I'll protect you whether you like it or not" often fell to him. And admittedly, he was a very good protector, a good big brother...but he was a God-awful role model when it came to girls." Here Goldson snorted fondly. "Janos Grayson was a world-class ladies killer fit to put Don Juan to shame. He had more experience at sixteen then most men have by time their twenty. More than once he blew Rikárd and I off to go lollygagging with some long legged blond. I don't know how to explain it, but he _needed_ girls _..._ he needed the physical contact."

Elijah eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief. "...and seeing how young Dick was mooning over that pretty red-head at his school, I'd say he inherited that trait. If that be the case than you have my pity Mr. Wayne, for I remember well the pains and hassles his parents went through in dealing with Jan."

Bruce groaned and dropped his head into his hand, muttering "Great," even as Dick went beet red with mortification, sputtering unintellialbe noise.

"Well it seems that we have a few interesting years ahead of us," Alfred said dryly.

Elijah chuckled again, this time a little more light-heartily, took a deep sip of his tea. "Of course, there was more to Janos than just the notches on his belt," he commented, setting his drink down. "He was also a talented artist," with that, Goldson handed over that notebook...which quickly proved to be a sketch book. "...see for yourself."

By this point, Dick had left his seat behind him and was kneeling beside the table. He took the sketch book eagerly; pouring over it's contains with an almost greedy eye.

"Wow..." was all he could say. His relative's drawings were amazing-beyond amazing. Though there were some landscape sketches, and portraits of people, anthropomorphism animals were the dominating theme; their characteristics hilarious exaggerated. Fat pigs for bankers, a swan ballerina, a tomcat burglar-that made Dick snort-and much, much more.

"Jan got into drawing way back in 1928, after he saw _Steamboat Willie_ in the moivehouse...he dreamed and talked about going to America someday and working for Walt Disney," Elijah said proudly...before his smile disappeared. "But of course...things didn't work out that way. Not for any of us."

With deliberate speed now, a third photograph was slapped down. This once was of that mid-teen girl. Her picture had been taken while she had been performing a spirited twirl, a tambourine held high in the air, with masses of black hair flying around her beaming face.

"This was Soraya, the second born and the only girl in the family," Goldson disclosed in a hushed tone. " As you can see, this girl clearly took after her mother in teams of beauty. My Miriam was her dearest friend, and when they would walk down the street, people would stop and stare. They called them Snow White and Rose Red. And believe me, Raya's personality lived up to that title. She was open-hearted and gracious -she would spend hours comforting people who had been outcaste from their villages due to poverty, sickness, or madness. But make no mistake...she was a Grayson, and if you crossed her, there would be hell to pay. That was a trait she shared both her brothers...and they got it from their father."

Now Goldson fell silent, and seem almost...lost for an instant. His mouth moved, but no words came out. Slowly, ever so slowly...he put the last picture down.

"And this was Rikárd, at the age I first knew him..."

* * *

Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner!

Okay, what do you think of the Grayson Family so far? Do they seem like legit characters? I tried to incorporate some of Dick's traits into each of them, but still keep them unique. Also...how am I handling the subject matter? Needless to say it is dark stuff. Am I doing a good job with it?

P.S...I hope you got a laugh out of how Elijah made fun of how Dick might be like his Uncle Jan when it came to girls.


	5. How Elijah met Rikárd part 1

_KaliAn: I'm glad you think so_

 _ThatHydrokinetic: I glad you enjoy this story, keep reading!_

 _pupeez4eva: Yes, Elijah saw and was happy to see that Bruce cares so much for Dick, That will become apparent as the story continues. More Daddybat will be coming to._

 _Guest 1: Well here is that update you wanted so much! Sorry it took a while._

 _Guest2: Your really to kind! I'm flattered you like this story so much! Thank you!_

 _Hope37: Your favorite story? Wow! I'm so happy!_

 _SonYukiGoku'sSister: I'm glad you got a laugh out of it. I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 _chapter 5_

The last picture displayed a grinning boy around ten years of age, clothed in the attire of an aerialist. One hand was raised in greeting to whomever had taken the photo...while his other hand rested adoringly on head of a baby elephant he was riding. And _that_ all but banished any doubt that Bruce might have had that _wasn't_ Dick's biological grandparent.

Of course the fact that the boy was the minor image of his son at that age help as well, he had to admit.

The resemblance was so perfect it was almost disturbing. Out of the corner of his eye, the billionaire watched as Dick abruptly stood up. With a knowing eye, Bruce silently observed as his boy turned, and took three steps towards the fireplace. From there Dick took a framed picture of himself down from the mantle. Glaring at it, a _phss_ of air shot out between the teenager's teeth, while his raven head shook in disbelief.

"...Man you guys _,_ just _look_ at this," he breathed in wonder when he had returned to his pervious spot. Setting his image down besides his grandfather's, he shook his head again. "We could've been twins..."

For a few spell-bounded moments, the five of them were powerless pull their eyes away from the sight laid out before them. The photo of Dick had been taken about a month after he had arrived at the manor, just after Bruce had been granted guardianship. In it a nine year old child was beaming besides his new caretaker on their patio, thin arms held up in a victory V shape.

It had been such a joyful day...the courts had _finally_ given Dick's ward-ship over to him, therefore reducing the odds of the state being able to take the boy away from his new home to near microscopic levels, compared to what they had been.

On that day, Dick had been free to begin his life again.

Transferring his eyes back to the black and white photo, Bruce found that he had to repress a shudder. _Christ, they're almost identical,_ he thought incredulous. It didn't seem like that should be possible, that genetics could make one person the living image of another.

But the proof was right here in front of him. The same thick black hair, the same tiny frame, the same infectious grin...it was as though the boy had somehow jumped across time into "glorious Technicolor".

But Elijah clicked his tongue at Dick's statement. "Not exactly _zun,_ " he said quietly, his face squinting as he tried to peer into the past. "Yes, you are very similar to each other...but Rikárd was darker skinned than you...and his eyes were brown. He had an earing in his right ear and also," he continued on thoughtful. "l think...yes, his nose didn't turn up like yours does, it was very straight...yes. You see?"

Reaching out, Goldson tapped his pointer finger on this difference, so that the rest of them could see it.

Chuckling, the old man shook his head, and let out a heavy sigh. "But these are only small differences. And in personality...you are very alike indeed."

* * *

Y+J

By this time, Dick's head was whirling like he had just gotten off a roller-coaster. His blood was racing through his veins at dangerously high risk speeds, and his hands trembled in his lap. He exactly felt a little lightheaded, a little tipsy _(not_ that he knew firsthand what _that_ would feel like either).

He just...he just couldn't _believe_ it... in the last couple hours since meeting Elijah and Esther Goldson, he had learned more about his family than in all thirteen years of his existence.

It almost felt surreal, transparent, flimsy. Like it could- like it _should_ -only be a dream. When his parents had died, Dick hadn't just lost his loved ones. He had lost his past- his identity and history. Everything his mother and father had planned on telling him when he was, as they put it, "old enough to understand".

 _Not_ that this had been at the forefront of his mind at the time but...but still.

After the initial mourning he had undergone for his parents, Dick had also grieved for the stories they had never gotten to tell, the questions they had never answered, the experiences they would never pass onto him.

He had thought that his family's secrets were lost to him forever.

Though given the contents that evidently made _up_ their history...Dick could understood why his mother and father hadn't told it to his eight-year-old self. This stuff wasn't exactly what anyone in their right minds would call "kid-friendly _"_. But far from finally satisfying his curiosity, this tiny peck into the Pandora box only made him determined to pry it open all the way.

He wanted to know everything, wanted to understand the people who's sweat and blood had breed him...and he wanted to know regardless of what dark things also came flying out.

So many things made sense now...but so many things still did not. Dick had to know more.

To the boy's best estimate, there was roughly about a million questions swarming around in his head, some lighthearted and innocent... and others _not-so-much_. Questions like how had Elijah meet his grandfather. How had they become friends?

...H-had he known his grandmother? And if so...what had she been like? What was her name? (Dick didn't even know _that_ ).

Did Elijah's parents sent their son to stay with the Graysons, feeling that it would be safer for a Jewish kid to live among Gypsies? Had they thought that would save their son from the Germans and the Holocaust?

Had...had his grandfather's family been _caught_ hiding him?

And...was _that_ why they were been sent to camps? It was the only reason Dick could come up with for why a non-Jewish family would be sent away..and considering how his father had said his grandfather's family had died...this seem more likely than not.

Was that why only his grandfather had survived the war?

Grimacing at how fast his thoughts had turned dark, the boy gave himself a little shake, and cleared his throat.

"Sooo," he breathed out in a tone he hoped didn't betray the desperate eagerness he felt. "H-how did you meet my grandfather?"

* * *

Y+J

Goldson's eyes gleamed behind his spectacles at the question, and suddenly, the years seem to fall from his face. He smiled, and for a spilt second Dick caught a glimpse of how he look as a kid. Young, eager, carefree and happy.

"Oh," he breathed out almost in a sort of reverence. "I first met Rikárd so long ago...so long ago. I don't think you even realize...at that point in time, there had not yet been 9/11. There hadn't been the atomic bomb. Death and murder on such scales could only be found in the Bible, or in Great War Veterans' stories. The year was 1937...Vienna, Austria."

"Austria?" Alfred inquired. "You were Austrian, Master Elijah?"

"Oh yes," Elijah replied, nodded his head. There was a hint of pride to his voice as he added, "In some ways I suppose I still am. At the time Vienna was one of the most prominent centres of Jewish culture in Europe; it was a beautiful, wonder filled city made famous for it's music...oh Lord, the _music._ Sometimes if I try, I can still hear it..."

 _"Saba,"_ Esther said pointedly, tapping Goldson on his knee, while rising a gentle eyebrow. Goldson colored slightly and coughed, clearly embarrassed. "But back to the matter at hand...I met Richard Grayson in 1937, when the circus came to town." A wry grin lit up his face on. "It was spectacular sight to see, as I'm sure you know Dick."

The teenager's mouth spread in a wide grin, and his head nodded earnestly. "Yeah...I sure do."

Elijah Goldson proceeded to spin a fabulous tale of near mythical status. Soon Dick, Bruce, Alfred and Esther were transported more than sixty years into the past, standing besides a nine-year-old, awe-stuck Elijah Goldstein as he approached the white and red striped Big Top with his parents. People milled about the game stands, and the sent of freshly made popcorn and caramel floated on the air, a heavenly aroma.

It was late in the evening, and the sun had began to set. But this was no problem, oh no. Do not fret ladies and gentleman! Or so cried the loud speakers. _We_ are the masters of Day and Night here!

And with that the electric lights suddenly switched on, to a grand wave of "ohs" and "awes". The path now lit by man-made stars, the Goldsteins made their way to the menagerie. There they marvel shamelessly at the strange, exotic, and downright _weird_ animals that dwelled there.

Magnificent lions that showed their teeth with lazy yawns, and zebras who prance and yelped within their cages. The necks of timid giraffes swayed graceful from side to side, and mischievous apes stole the hats from the heads of people who were stupid enough to get too close (including Elijah's father).

After retrieving the hat, the Goldsteins were looking in vain for some elephants, and were disappointed when they couldn't find any. But just as they were about to leave, two colorfully dressed, dark-skinned Gypsy boys with wide smiles and laughing eyes jumped into their path. Asking why they looked so glum (in perfect German no less) the Goldsteins explained their plight, and with knowing grins the boys had bid the family to follow them.

While they flipped and cartwheel their way down the menagerie ( _literality_ mind you), the older boy had introduced himself as Janos and the younger boy as his brother Rikárd- at which the smaller boy had made a face and asked to be called Rudzik...the Polish word for Robin.

"He use to hate his name," Goldson explained in the present with a fond grin. "Robin once told me that Rikárd sounded like an old man's name and that it's nickname left little to be desired- erm, no offence meant _zun_."

Dick snorted. "None taken," he said dryly, while Bruce suppressed a smirk. "Believe'me, I've felt his pain."

Then sifting a little, Dick asked in smaller voice, "Umm...d-did he ever say _why_ he like the name Robin-er _Rudzik,"_ now _he_ was the one making a face. "so much?"

* * *

Y+J

Some of the light left Goldson face at that, and his gaze fell to his lap.

"Yes..." the old man confessed softly, his hands clenching. "It was the pet name his father gave him...Demetri love all his children...but Robin was his favorite. His pride and joy. He called his youngest son _Robin_ because in their culture, those birds were said to mean good luck. They were the bringers of spring, and symbolized new life and renewal to the Rom. But after the war...Rikárd stopped using the name. He said his spirit wasn't innocent enough to be Robin anymore...not after everything we had seen. And he was right. It really wasn't."

Heavy melancholy followed this statement, weighting the entire room down from it pervious happy atmosphere. Seeing that Dick was visually struggling to contain his emotions with this new information, Bruce reach over and grasped his son by the shoulder. "Dick, are you sure you want to continue with this?" the billionaire asked gently. "If you don't-"

"No, I do," Dick said at once, without hesitant. He raised his head to lock gazes with his guardian, reveling dry, headstrong eyes. "I want to keep going."

Bruce hesitated for a moment, measuring his son resolved. "...Your sure about this?" he asked in a grave tone.

"Absolutely," Dick declared, nodded ferociously. Then in a softer voice he added, "It's okay Bruce...I can take it."

 _I'm not so sure about that chum...if this story is headed the way I think it is, then this isn't even the bad part yet,_ the Dark Knight thought grimly. But instead of saying this out loud, Bruce gave single nod of acceptance, and sank back into his chair, while Goldson resumed his narrative.

* * *

 _Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner._

 _Well...how was that? Did I write everyone accurately? And what do you guys think so far about the story line? Anyone have any guesses on where it's going._

 _Also...since Dick's reactions are the most important...how were they? He's a little ignorance of what happen to the Romani people in WW2 because his parents never got to the change to tell him. So his in for an unpleasant surprise._


	6. How Elijah met Rikárd part 2

_nekochan1994: well the horrifying will come in more next chapter, this is still a bit lighthearted here._

 _Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt: Thank you very much, I hope you continue to enjoy this story and futher glimpse into Robin's history._

 _SonYukiGoku'sSister: Well I dearly hope you find this one long and enjoyable :D_

 _Pixie07: I'm glad you think so!_

 _black target: Thank you dearly!_

 _ThatHydrokinetic: I hope you find the characters' reactions just as good here._

 _KaliAnn:I glad you think so, I've done a lot of research. I want very much to be respectful._

* * *

 _chapter 6_

After a small bit of walking -during which Elijah father had begun to wondered if their guides weren't scheming them- the family got the pleasure and delight of getting up close and personal with a mother pachyderm and her baby -naturally under the Gypsy boys careful management.

And for the next few minutes, the Goldsteins and a small group of others collected in a similar manner as themselves were permitted to toss popcorn and peanuts into the gentle beasts' smiling mouths.

At the time Elijah had been enchanted by their outrageously long eyelashes, and the swinging trucks that moved as if it were a creature independent of it's gigantic host. Throughout all this, the brothers who had lead the people to the elephant tent provided trivia facts on life and care-taking of the storm colored mammals, as well as telling funny short stories on the mischief-making ways of the brutes.

"Janos and Rikárd had the Devil's charm about them, all flashing teeth and cheeky winks," Goldson said, chuckling as he did do. "They would talk quiet so that people would have to lean closer to hear them, and Jan was extra carefully to pay special attention to the ladies... _hee_ , by the time the show was about to start I think my mother wanted to _adopt_ them. And she was a very reverse, soft-spoken woman...those boys had a gift for making people feel at ease."

..Inwardly, Bruce thought that he could imagine some of what Mrs. Goldstein might have felt, all those years ago. After all Dick had work the same magic on him, back when they had met under a similar Big Top, albeit under...less than happy circumstances.

"It was a mad scramble to get seats in the stands," Elijah continue on. "We couldn't all fit so the roustabouts spread hay on the ground...it was a fantastic show. Had everything from lion tamers to a liberty act. But like all good shows, they saved their best for last..."

When the Flying Graysons appeared on the rigging high above the crowd, many gasps had sounded out from the audience -mostly from the woman. And in fairness, they had good cause. Most of the woman were mothers, so naturally they were alarmed to see three pleasant faced children -two of whom had just charmed their socks off- were going to perform three stories above their heads. Without a net.

But any worries the ladies may have held soon disappeared, and was replaced by boundless delight as the children, alongside their parents, proceeded to defy the laws of gravity.

"It was one of the most spectacular things I've ever seen in my life," Elijah breathed out dreamily.

* * *

Y+J

"After the Graysons' act was done the show was over...but before the Ringmaster close up, he called the family out again and asked those of us in the crowd to give them another around of applause because after tonight, the Graysons would be leaving the show-"

Here he had to stop; the reason being that Dick had promptly began to chocked on the tea he had just pored for himself: spiting it back into it's cup.

" _Charming_ manners young sir," was Alfred's input on the matter. But the boy barely heard him. "'L-Leaving the show?'" he repeated dumbly. Such a thing made no sense to him. " _Why?"_

"Patience _zun,_ I promise all will make sense soon," Goldson replied calmly...but then his face took on a look of great puzzlement. "...now...err...where was I Essie?"

"Where the Graysons left the show _Saba_ ," Esther supplied dutifully. Goldson thought this over, hummed thoughtfully, then beamed in agreement, his head bobbing up and down. "Ah yes. Yes, now at that time, this didn't mean much to me...but it certainty did one week later, when Rikárd showed up in my school as my classmate. I was beyond thrilled. I was ecstatic. 'Here is my change to have a pal,' I thought."

Elijah fell silence now, and looked distantly uncomfortable, sifting in his seat and clearing his throat. One liver spotted hand adjusted his spectacles.

"Well," he said at the end of this operation. "I suppose that their no other way to put this...but before I met Rudzik...I well...I did not have many friends," he confessed in a rush, twin spots of red appearing in his thin cheeks. "My family was very well off during a time were people were struggling just to live. And when you topped that with over protective parents, it meant that most people wanted nothing to do with you..."

"But back to the story," the elder said quickly, clearly not comfortable with what he had just divulged. "I tried to work up the courage to walk over and say hello before class started...but I was too shy. 'After all,' I thought, "why would a super cool kid want to be friends with me?'"

So it came to pass that Elijah wound up doing nothing, and all too soon class started. The teacher was a sweet brunette woman by the name of Fräulein Maria Amstutz, who unfortunately did what all teachers at the time felt obliged to do...she announced to the class that there was a new student, before graciously inventing Rudzik up to write his name on the board.

But that was where things went to hell.

Poor Rudzik had trotted up to front of the room as if he were going to his execution, back straight and face utterly blank. Ever so slowly he had picked up a piece of well worn chalk...but instead of writing his name he made an X. And then another. And another.

All too soon the truth was out...Rikárd Roman Grayson could not write his name. And even if someone had written it for him, he would not be able to read it. He could speck three languages, would be turning ten in less than a month, but he was totally illiterate.

Dick's jaw fell open and nearly hit the floor; while beside him, his guardians' eyebrows shot skyward in disbelief.

"...you gotta be _kidding,_ " the boy said at long last.

" _Nope_ ," Elijah reported flatly, popping the p-sound. "I which I say could I were. But that is the truth, shocking as it may seem."

"Soo," Dick said slowly, his brows furrowing. "...was that why the family left the circus?"

Elijah looked impressed. "Precisely _zun._ Dymitr and Zoya felt that if their children were going to succeed in the word, they needed the basic education they and their forefathers never received. Of cause they probably hadn't realize just how hard it would be. I felt so terrible for him at the time...the whole class was laughing at him-

'Oh look,' they said. 'the stupid gypsy can't read.' _Hem_...just a week ago many of those same kids had cheered him on when he performed on the trapeze...but now they mocked him. I think that was the first time I realized just how _frickle_ people could be. How easily they could turn on you..."

He fell silence again, lost in thought, until he sighed and carried on without prompting. He explained how Fräulein Maria had felt simply awful. She hadn't call on Rudzik for the rest of the day...but the damage was done.

When school ended, the boy tried to run for it, but he hadn't gotten off the playground before Ferdinand Diamant ("-I always felt he bullied others because he knew his name was stupid-") and his gang surrounded him.

What transpired next drew quite a crowd.

"Ferdy was taunting him. He knocked Rudzik's school books out of his hands and shoved his own in Rudzik's face," Elijah recalled tightly. "The little brute kept ordering him to read a page. Meanwhile, Rudzik didn't response. He just stood there grinding his teeth so hard I was surprise sparks weren't flying...but that didn't last long. Three seconds later he had enough."

Now Elijah smirked. "Rudzik pounced on old Ferdy like a starved lion. He beat the hell out of him, and the little gang of followers was too horrified to do anything. All it took was a couple good punches and Ferdy, who had been big for his age, was out like a light. Robin stood there with his fist raised and asked if anyone else wanted to make fun of him...naturally no one spoke up."

Dick snorted, his eyes gleaming. "Yeah, I bet they didn't."

"We all dispersed, and Rikárd scooped up his books and ran. So I ran after him. "Kid, kid!" I called out. "Wait up!" Rudzik spun around with his fists clenched. "Do _you_ want to make fun of me?" he asked in as dangerous a voice as a nine year old could manage.

"No, no," I stammered. "I-I just wanted to know if you liked to play sometime."

That change his entire demeanor. He looked so confused. He asked me why, and by that point I was convinced that he thought I was a loser. I muttered that I thought it was great how he had knocked out Ferdy because he always picked on me...and that maybe we could be friends."

The smaller boy looked away then and asked why anyone would want to be friends with a stupid gypsy. Elijah immediately protested that Rikárd wasn't stupid, he just hadn't learned yet. There was a different, and...if he liked, Elijah would be happy to show him how to read and write his name for tomorrow.

At that point Rikárd's face had lit up, and he immediately agree.

The boys made their way to the local park ( "-it was close enough to the school and things were different then, safer, young kids didn't have to go straight home-"), where under a oak tree Elijah gave Rikárd his first _real_ lesson; teaching the boy, among other words, the letters that formed his name.

So that the very next day the previously humiliated boy stormed up to the chalkboard, and wrote his name in a signature so large it put John Hancock's to shame.

After this feat was accomplished, he slammed the chalk down and marched back to his seat...right next to Elijah.

From that point on, they were peas in a pod, thicker than thieves...

In other words, they were the best of friends.

("-And good old Ferdy was moping in the back," Elijah said devilishly. "A large bruise the size of an ostrich egg bugling between his eyes-")

Life had been good then, the best it would ever be...not that either Elijah or Rikárd knew that at the time. No one did.

* * *

Y+J

A watch suddenly beeped, and the entire party jerked upright a bit, having been startled back into the present day; which only showed just how immersed they had all been in the story...included Bruce, who by this time had few remaining reservations about the authenticity of it's teller -and even the remaining ones were fading at a faster rate than he was comfortable with.

In the mist of this, Esther blushed and muttered a soft apology, as she raised a watch cladded wrist to her face. Moments later her green doe eyes bulged in astonishment. "Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob," the girl yelped. " _Saba_ it's already eight o'clock!"

All at once five pairs of eyes turned to look out the study's large pair of windows...only to be confronted by dwindling light. The hours had flow away from them.

Elijah face was blank. "Oh dear...this might be problematic."

Esther moaned slightly and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

"That's _one_ way of putting it _Saba,"_ she muttered under her breath, both Goldsons seeming to forget that there were other people in the study. "By the time we get back to the city it will be ten o'clock...and it's party season...we're _never_ going to get a hotel room at that hour, never mind a decent meal. I _told_ you we should have arranged this before hand-"

Now at that, Alfred could not remain seated. Clearing his throat, the gentleman rose to his feet with his chin held high. "While I can be of little assistance in the first half of your troubles, I can _certainly_ see to it that your stomachs get some proper substances. It will only take me half-an-hour have a chicken stew prepared."

Elijah rose as well now, shaking his head and one of his hands. " _N_ _ein, nein,_ good sir," he spoke sternly, " _Neyn, neyn._ I cannot asked that of you-"

"Ah, but Master Elijah _you_ are not asking, I am _insisting_ ," the butler paired expertly, one unruly eyebrow arching high on his forehead, having gain much experience over the years in getting stubborn men to eat. Dick and Bruce shared a private smile while Esther looked on, memorized.

Meanwhile Alfred continued on, declaring that no guest in this house would depart with an empty stomach while he had breath in him. His statement completed, he merely waited for Mr. Goldson to yield to the inevitably.

It didn't take any longer than five minutes.

"...very well."

Alfred's expression instantly transformed from stoicism to courtesy as if by magic. "Then let us all make for the dinning room," he said with briskness. "-the meal shall be severed at no latter than eight-thirty."

As the group filed obediently out the door and down the hall, Alfred suddenly added in a thoughtful tone, "And now that I've had a moment to think on it I'm quite sure in Master Bruce wouldn't protest if you and Miss Esther took up guest rooms for the night. Am I correct sir?"

That last sentence may have been phrased as a question, but it was perfectly clear the butler expected only one answer.

Elijah immediately began to protested again. "Now that is to much. It is to much!" he exclaimed. "I will no impose on you so-"

"You wouldn't be imposing at all," Bruce replied smoothly. "Like Alfred said, the two of you are guests here, and we have more than enough space. Besides, I think it's clear that we won't be finishing you narration tonight...having you stay here is logical."

Elijah still looked hesitant, so Dick decided to add his own bit in. "It really wouldn't be any trouble Mr. Goldson," he reassured him eagerly. "Besides, you _can't_ pass up tasting Alfred's world famous bacon and eggs breakfast special! It's _insanely_ good!"

That cracked the elderly man's reluctance, and an ironic smile pulled at his mouth.

"Ah, but alas," he sighed dramatically, a playful twinkled in his eye. "I suppose I will never know, as I'm prohibited from eating bacon -one of the unfortunate downsides of being a Jew...though I must admit, I am curious now, about those eggs."

Here he gave Dick a wink, which earned him an all out grin in return. "I suppose I'll have to take you up on that offer. What do you say Essie?"

The girl looked ready to cry with relief. "I think that would be perfect _Saba."_

* * *

 _Y+J_

 _"_ Mr. Pennyworth I must commend you," Goldson praised at exactly eight-thirty five, lightly tapping his spoon on the rim of his now empty bowl. The elder was seated at the Wayne family dinning table, directly in front of yet another fireplace -though this one was empty- between his granddaughter and Dick.

"I haven't had a stew this delicious in years -not since our own cook Mrs. Dorn passed away back in 2005. I dare say you would have given her a run for her money. Wouldn't you agree Essie?"

Esther's eyes glowed as she nodded passionately in agreement. "Oh yes, definitely."

Alfred bowed his head in a humble show of thanks, while the minds of both of his charge's head imploded slightly at the idea that _anyone's_ cooking talents could be equal to Alfred's. Such a thought bordered on being blasphemous in their world.

"I'm honored that you think so sir," Alfred said gracefully. "Was this Mrs. Dorn with your family for a very long time?"

"Oh yes," Elijah confirmed proudly. "Sophie Dorn worked for my family nearly all her life, from before I was born. She was very similar to you in fact. Tough, shrewd, a fanatic on decorum...and devoted. Utterly devoted."

Elijah smiled sadly. "Mrs. Dorn loved my parents like her own mother and father and nothing in this world could have convinced her to forsake them. Not her friends, not her husband...and certainly not the Nazi party. She was a gentile -a Christian- but she _chose_ to endured every injustice besides my parents, up to and including the camps...and after the war was over she came back to work for me. Something tells me that like her, you would do the same."

Alfred was uncharacteristically silent at this. But the few tiny flashes of emotion that cross his face told everybody just how moved he was.

"Then," he said softly. "It truly _is_ an honor to be compared to such a noble soul."

* * *

Y+J

"...Despite it's rather unorthodox beginning my friendship with Rudzik was fairly ordinary for the rest of that first year," Goldson mused at eight-fifty four p.m - the party had moved back to the study, on Dick's insistence and Elijah's corporation.

"Well, save for the fact that a good deal of our time together was spend me teaching Rikárd to read and write, so he could stay at my school level, and him teaching me to speak Romani in return -that was very useful down the line. But the thing was that we both _enjoyed_ it. We loved learning, loved challenging each other. We were both naturally curious about the world, to the point were one time I attended Catholic mass with the Graysons and Rudzik once came with my family to the synagogue."

Of course, their scholarly side didn't mean that the boys hadn't found ways to get into mischief -whether that meant seeking rides on the city trolley, running races around the town fountains, or assisting Jan and Soraya on one of their get rich quick schemes.

"But the thing that scared our mothers to death was when Rikárd and I would go play in the Wien river," the old man chuckled wryly. "-after all at the time...we didn't know how to swim."

Dick and Esther both exploded into laughter while Bruce blew air out his nose, and pressed his fingers to his temples. He was seriously beginning to wonder how much of Dick's recklessness could be linked to his genetics.

"I can see why that would alarm them," the billionaire said drily.

Elijah spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders in a guilty manner. "What can I say? We were ten and we thought we were invincible."

Then without any warning all of fond memory's suddenly fled from his face. "But the next year's events brought an end to that belief mighty quick...as well as our childhood innocence."

All of a sudden the room was darken, in a way beyond that of nighttime.

Dick felt a shiver snake it's way down his spine, complying him to sit up straighter as his blood began to speed up again.

"...Why?" he asked quietly, his hands curling into fists on his lap. "What happened?"

Elijah Goldson looked at him with ancient eyes. "The Night of Broken Glass is what happen, young Dick. That was the night our lives as we knew it ended."

* * *

 **Reviews make me happy, so tell me what you thought and i'll update sooner.**

 **Well, we're almost at the end of the first part of Elijah's history. But before it's completed, we'll learn how Elijah and Rikárd survived the Night of Broken Glass, and how Elijah ended up living with the Graysons. After that, our Heros were go their separate way for a little bit to further my story plot. Hold on to your seats because the actions is really about to take off.**

 **But in the meantime, what was your favorite part here...mine was when Elijah remember the Flying Grayson act, snd Bruce was wondering how much of Dick's crazy is due to his D.N.A.**


	7. End of part One

_Alaster Bonemen: fair enough_

 _Piper 1996: I'm so glad you like it! And yes, Elijah will meet Wally...not sure about Roy though. But I'll think about it._

 _aRobininflight: Thank you, I did a lot of research on it._

 _BlackTarget: Yes I mean the Night of Broken Glass._

 _KaliAnn: Thank you so much. That is what I try to do._

* * *

 _chapter 7_

"The end of the world came on March 12, 1938," Elijah declared in a monotone voice, as if he had only asked someone to passed the salt.

Tightening his grip on his second cup of tea, he swirled his spoon around its edges with a quiet fervor. "History knows it now as the _Anschluss..._ the day Germany took over my country, without a _single voice_ rising in protest. _"_

Snorting, Elijah slapped his forehand to the side of his face. "I can't even call it a takeover. Hitler was Austrian by birth, so he had nearly the full support of the people my family had considered our neighbors...Austrians greeted their conquerors with Nazi salutes, Nazi flags, and red Nazi flowers. In Vienna... _my_ city, my _home,_ had changed over night. The Nazi flag hung like Death's banner from every window and balcony...Robin called it "the black spider on it's web" because to us, that's what it looked like. It was so ugly..."

Coughing a little, Goldson took a deep sip of his tea, while his audience waited with baited breath for him to finish.

Bruce noted that even Goldson's own granddaughter seemed entranced by the narration -and the idea formed in the billionaire's head that this was the first time _she_ was hearing this tale as well. That would go a long way in explaining why she had come with her grandsire half-way across the world, just to meet a boy that she herself had no connection to.

People could go to astonishing lengths if they thought the truth was waiting for them at the end.

For a moment Bruce wondered at the girl's parents...while their daughter certainly seemed mature and capable, it was still an extraordinary leap of trust to send a regular fifteen year old so far away, with so little supervision.

...But...now that he paused to think about it...in the entire time they've been guests in his house, neither Esther or Elijah had made so much as a passing reference to the girl's parents.

Bruce was all to aware of what that implied.

* * *

When Elijah finished his drink, he seemed startled by the intensely of the attention he was getting.

"My God..." he murmured disbelievingly. " _Please_ tell me this is not the first time you young people are hearing about theses things. I thought they were taught in school..."

Dick shifted in his seat, clearly wanting to just get back to the story, but at the same time, didn't want to appear rude.

"Weeell yeah," he said slowly, drawing out the words. "We do...but I'm only a freshman. I won't studied this stuff until a few years from now..."

"-And besides," he added quickly, when Elijah seemed a little put down by this fact, "Reading stuff from history books isn't half as good as hearing it first hand. Classes always rush through without going deeper into it."

"Hum..."Goldson said softly. "I supposed that's true...I thought the same thing when I was your age -what's the point of teaching history if you move so fast, your students don't have time to grasp it? To _understand_ it? Yes..."

Quirking an eyebrow, the old man said, "I imagine you all just want to get to the main events, yes?"

"...That would be good yeah," Dick admitted. "Well I mean...not _good_ , it wasn't _good_ but...yeah."

Elijah nodded promptly. "Very well then, where would you like me to start?"

"Umm..." Dick drew out slowly, thrown off by the question. And understandably so too, seeing that from the beginning, Goldson had gone off at his own pace. "Well...how 'bout from where things started getting bad?"

"...From day one things were beyond bad _Zun,"_ Elijah replied drily. "They very next day after the Anschluss, Jews were driven through the streets of Vienna, their homes and shops were plundered. Men and women were forced to wash away pro-independence slogans painted on the streets of Vienna by the few people who were brave enough to oppose the takeover. With _toothbrushes_. Every other week there were new laws and regulations -Jews can't do this, can't do that- within _months_ we were driven out of public life."

"And Rudzik's family weren't doing so well either," Goldson continued. "Roma kids were banned from school along with Jews, so that was the end of the Graysons' attempt to educated their children. But even then they were better of than us... _they_ at least could still make a living performing in the artisan section in the city -while my father lost his position in the bank. "

"But...but despite the situation, we-we all tried to go on with life. Since we couldn't go to school anymore, my mother homeschooled me and Rikárd. He would come over to my house to study and forget that the world was falling apart around us. Sometimes he would sleep over, and we'd stay up late talking about what we wanted to do when we grew up...a little clueless there eh?"

"No sir," Alfred said softly. "Just young boys who believed in the future."

The elder shook his head, and his hand moved to feverously rub his wrist.

"No... _Rudzik_ was the one who believed in the future. Hope was... it was intertwined into his soul -tied up along with all of his dreams. And he believed in it so hard, that I began to believed it too...even though all common sense told me not to."

Smilingly wryly, the old man added, "I think that's why my parents enjoyed having him over so much...he just brighten up the room. Made them feel that there _was_ a future to look forward to...at least for me."

Then that smile vanished.

"We were up in my bedroom on November 9 when Kristallnacht begun, and everything changed."

* * *

"And it wasn't by any means subtle," Elijah recalled in a trembling voice, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. Bruce saw Esther lean forward in her seat, worry creasing her brow. "One moment everything was normal -everything was fine. Just a night like every other. And then the next moment, a pack of animals is braking down the door."

"But those men, those beasts, they didn't stop with the braking the door -oh no. They began to smash _everything._ Me and Rikárd were both sitting on my bed, a few books spread between us, listening as glass shattered. We were ten and eleven years old, the two of us. We were frozen."

But the boys hadn't remained frozen for long -not when an even worser sound reached their ears. The sound of Elijah's parents being beaten in their own home.

In retrospect, what they did next was _extremely stupid._

...Or perhaps not. Perhaps what they did next exactly saved their lives. Drawn by the screams, the boys had open the door, creped to the staircase, peered down below to witness a sight no child should ever have to see.

Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein, along with Mrs. Dorn -who had made the grave mistake of trying to interfere- were surrounded by at least ten mid-to-late teenaged boys, all in those crap-brown Nazi uniforms that they had come to fear and hate.

Elijah must have gasped, or sucked in a breath, or _something_...because to _everyone's_ horror -adults' and kids'- one of the boys, with the heighten sense of a bloodhound, looked up and saw them on the stairs.

"Ah," he said grinning from ear to ear, like it was all a good joke. "You have little ones!"

 _"Elijah!"_ His mother had shrieked, spraying blood from her mouth as she did so. _"RUN!"_

But despite both the threat and warning, her son was too stupefied to move.

Lucky for him, Rikárd was _not._ Grabbing his friend by the collar, he pulled Elijah back to reality with one good yank, and led their mad dash back into the bedroom, the sound of booted feet lazily making their way up the stairs to come after them. After all what was the rush? What could two little boys do?

They soon found out however, when they couldn't open the door -Rikárd and Elijah having shoved a chair under the handle. But now they were trapped, and judging from the irate banning on the door, their wannabe attackers weren't too happy with them.

What could they do? Where could they go? They couldn't fight them...could they? They were twice their size and had _guns_...

Terrified, Elijah was all for hiding under the bed...but Robin had a different plan. Eyes on fire, the Roma boy rushed to the window, opened it, and balanced precariously on its edged. Outside of Elijah's bedroom was a small courtyard, and a single, gnarly old birch tree.

 _"What are you doing?!"_ Elijah gasped as he stood behind him.

"What does it look like? It's the only way out 'Lijah," Rudzik replied in a matter-a-fact tone.

Glaring out from underneath his friend's arm, Elijah blanched at the distance between the window and the tree.

"Rudzik it's too far," he pleaded desperately. "We'll kill ourselves if we jump!"

"And those crazies will kill us if we don't!" Rikárd shot back. "It's not so far...wish me luck."

With that he jumped, with all the flamboyance of an trapeze artist. He cleared the distance easily, disappearing like a bird into the branches. Frantic, Elijah clambered up onto the windowsill to look him.

""Rudzik? _Rudzik?!"_

For a terrible moment there was nothing...but then the branches rustled.

"Elijah come on! You next! Hurry!"

Gulping, Elijah hesitated.

The banning grow louder, rattling the door.

Rudzik's voice grew frightened. "Elijah _please!"_

Gathering his courage, the Jewish boy leaped after his friend.

* * *

"...I think I broke about ten branches coming into the tree," the modern day Goldson mused softly, while his audience sat in silence awe. "But I made it, that's the important thing. And not a moment to soon. My door broke just as I leapt. Me and Rikárd held our breath as one of those thugs came to the window and peered out. We were lucky that the branches I _didn't_ brake were so thick he couldn't see us. And that it was already dark enough that when the man looked down, he couldn't tell that there weren't two bodies on the ground..."

"When he went away, we climb down (well, _fell_ down in my case) and hid behind some garbage cans...that's where we stayed the rest of the night, listening to people scream, and watching the sky turn a molten golden-red. I don't know how we fell asleep, but we did. And when we woke up the next morning...everything was quiet."

Goldson's mouth thinned. " _That_ scared us more than the all the noise from last night. Even the screams. After all, if people are screaming, it means their still alive... were we the only ones left?"

He shagged, looking exhausted, and Esther began to get up, speaking in hushed Yiddish, but Goldson waved her down. "Alright Essie, alright, I'll wrap up...we're near to the end of this part of the story in any case."

"And if I may say so sir," Alfred interrupted. "It is one of the most remarkable stories I've ever hear -and I've hear quiet a few in my time. To think that boys your age would have the clearness of head...and the sheer courage of _heart_ to do what you did...it's absolutely _heroic_."

Goldson shook his head. "Heroism had nothing to do with it...that comes later. At that moment we were animals trying to save ourselves. You'd be amazed at what you can do, when you want to remain alive."

* * *

"Naturally, we explored the house first...it was a _wreak_ , and most of our money and _all_ of my Mother's jewelry had been taken...Mother and Father were gone as well. So was Mrs. Dorn. We didn't know if they were dead or arrested or _what_. We just didn't know. So we did the logical thing...we decided that the one safe place we knew now was the Graysons' apartment in the artisan section. Rikárd was sure that his parents were out of their minds with worry."

Bruce felt a shiver run down his back. For a brief moment, he tried to envision Dymitir and Zoya Grayson's circumstance...one where you _knew_ that your child was defenseless in a city that had ransacked and assaulted it's own citizens; all alone...unless of course, if he was in the company of a companion who was _part of the group_ _that had been targeted._

Suddenly, the many times Dick had been in danger (especially as highly trained Robin) almost seemed minuscule in comparison.

"As we made our way through Vienna, the full extend of last night happens became apparent to us...not one Jewish store or home had been spared. There was glass _everywhere._ Because we were bare-foot, we had to watch where we stepped. A cut foot would have been the perfect start to the heir of a perfectly awful night. But all that glass in the world didn't hurt as much as passing the Synagogue...or what was left of it. It had been burnt to a crisp...from the inside out -that what had turned the sky that hideous gold in the middle of the night."

Elijah rested his head on his knuckle, looking heart-sick. "Robin...Robin tried to say something...but I brushed him off. I didn't want comfort. I didn't want pity...and above all else...I didn't want to be a Jew...to me it was not any better than having a death sentence."

Taking a deep breath, he seemed to forced himself to sound more upbeat. "When we got to the Graysons' apartment, only Soraya and Zoya was there. And they damn near finished what the Germans had started: yelling their heads off, and hugging us to death at the same time; demanding to know where in the hell had we been, and why didn't we come here right away _and_ didn't we know Dymitr and Jan had been out looking for us, and _were we alright_?"

"Rikárd and I just sat there in the kitchen and took it...it's useless to try and stop a Grayson woman when she's on the war path (I'd rather deal with a rabid tiger)...plus Raya had eggs on the stove for us by this point, so we didn't want to risk her disfavor. We were starving."

After the boys had eaten, Zoya had taken Elijah hands, and told him as gently as she could that his mother was here as well, asleep in Soraya's bedroom. Naturally, Elijah had jump from the table and rushed to see her before Zoya could finish...only to freeze in shock in the doorway. On the bed was a ragged woman, who multiple injures seemed to pained her, everytime she breathed.

"...I couldn't recognized her," Goldson whispered hoarsely. "I couldn't recognized my own mother."

* * *

Elijah and his mother spent the next two weeks with the Graysons', while Mrs. Goldstein recovered from her injures. Mrs. Dorn was also brought to them, having been found wandering the streets in a state of shock by Dymitr and Janos, when they were looking for the boys.

Mr. Goldstein however, had vanished along with hundreds of other Jewish men -never to be seen or heard from again.

Of course, at the time they didn't know this. That was why Mrs. Goldstein politely refused Dymitr Grayson's invitation that both she and Elijah accompany his family back to their native Hungary -far, _far_ away from the Germans' madness. She felt that it was her duty as a wife to stay and look for her husband...however, she was _more_ than happy to accept this change for her son to escape the country. In less than a day the grown-ups had formed a cover story: which clearly stated that from now until further notice, Elijah Goldstein no longer existed.

In his place, a gypsy boy named Soren was born, third son of the Grayson clan. And that is what he would remain until being a Jewish boy no longer made one a target.

Naturally Elijah had protested the plan at first...how could his own mother be sending him away? They were all they had now, and he had to look after her a-and...but one stern look silenced any further objections. He was going, and that was the end of it. They would leave tomorrow.

 _"Tomorrow?!"_ Bruce exclaimed in disbelief, sitting up in his seat, his logical mind whirling. "How on God's earth would you be able to leave tomorrow?! Wasn't it forbidden to travel without papers or permits?"

"Well officially yes," the old man said dismissible, with a wave a hand to show that it was of little consequence. "Roma and other nomads were forbidden from travelling...to free for the Germans' taste...but the Graysons' still had their wagon and the horses the circus had left them, hidden in the woods. Turns out that they had been planning to leave Austria for weeks...ever since _Anschluss._ Seeking out of the city wasn't easy, but once we were out and all loaded up...there wasn't anything to stop us."

"Expected for German patrols and border-guards that would of probably arrested, if not outright shot you," Bruce stated flatly.

Eljah's eyes gleamed defiantly. "Well yes in part -if we traveled on the main roads that is. Which we never did. There are hidden highways throughout all of Eroupe, Mr. Wayne. Some of which are centuries old. Old Roma Roads-"

"Yeah yeah!" Dick exclaimed excitedly, his face lighting up. "I've _been_ on some of them, and Grandpa told me about others. If you didn't already know about them, you would never know they were there."

"Precisely Dick," Goldson said with a wink, making the boy grin broadly in returned, Bruce noted with a just a touch of irritation. "We had to push hard to make it before the winter set in, but we made it...we made it..."

* * *

Releasing a stream of air, Elijah pressed the palms of his hands together.

"And that is the story of how a Jewish boy became a gypsy," the old man said with an air of finality. "And seeing that it is ten o'clock, I think that would be a good place to stop for the night."

With those words, all of the joy effectively bleed out of Dick face. Esther's too, for that matter, in a lesser extent.

"Really?" he asked, his disappointment showing plainly in the slump of his shoulders, and down-hearted expression. "Are you sure you can't-"

"Dick," Bruce abolished. "It's late, and I'm sure that the Goldsons are tired from their trip here. They probably want to rest. Besides, you have school tomorrow."

Ears reddening, Dick suddenly became aware of how dangerously close to whiny he had sounded. "Oh, right..." he murmured shamefaced. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Esther reassured him as she helped her Grandfather up out of his seat. "Believe me we understand...we really do."

As the party began to file out, Elijah suddenly spoke up, "Oh yes, one more thing before I forget. Do you fellows know that your clock is broken?"

As he said this, the old man gestured vaguely to the mentioned grandfather clock that separated them from their hidden world of darkness and heroics.

The reaction of the household members was immediate; though mercifully subtle enough that neither of the guests picked up on the jolted of shock that passed over their faces.

"...Yes we are," Bruce answered in a nonchalant tone, inwardly thinking that there was no way he was going to risk a patrol this night, if the old man noticed so much. "It's an antique. We like it that way."

"Oh. Alright then. I'm glad you know."

* * *

After courteously helping the guests unload their suitcase from the car (though not with some protest from grandfather and granddaughter alike) and seeing them unloaded into adjoining rooms, Dick found himself seated cross-legged on his queen-sized bed. And in his pajama clad lap, he held his great uncle's drawing journal. He had begged _hard_ for Bruce to let him bring it into his bedroom. His guardian had agreed only under the condition that Dick was in bed by ten thirty, and no later.

Dick had been more than happy to give his consent.

Sneaking a quick peek at clock, he grinned to see that it read only ten thirteen. He had nearly half-an-hour to explore a lost world. A world that he was still having trouble believing existed, and was accessible to him. Throughout the whole narration, his heart had raced with both elation and suspense...which was kindda stupid, now that he thought about it.

After all, he _knew_ how this story would end -that his Grandfather would be the only one to come out of the war alive...but that knowledge hadn't stopped him from feeling Rudzik's determination and terror on the Night of Broken Glass. In his mind's eye he had seen a smaller, darker version of himself leap from a two story building, and tasted his fear as he watch the sky burn...

...Raising his head, Dick glared at his own window for a moment, shuddered, and returned to the notebook.

 _Whoa Grayson,_ he ordered himself. _Get a grip._

It was crazy that he was feeling so much... until today, he hadn't even know that any of these people _existed_ but now...now he _cared_ about them; care as though he had know them all in person. In a way now, he supposed he did.

And of course he cared...they were _family_.

Flipping with utmost care through the pages, Dick reveled at how well Janos Grayson had expressed himself in art _._ Each and every image -be it of animals or family members, spoke of a frank honest and a sly sense of humor.

Going passed the Disneyish drawings into more serious ones, it became clear that Jan hadn't shied away from exposing physically flaws, such as a small scar or blemishes, but he always manage to even it out with expect displays of the subject's personality.

After admiring a particularly nice illustration of a vivacious horse ridding Soraya, Dick turned the page...and blushed to the roots of his hair.

...This next section was devoted to pictures of blond, drop-dead _gorgeous_ girls -in various states of undress. But somehow, it balanced the fine scale of Playboy worthy dirtiness, and an almost Renaissance-like elegant. From the sheer detail of them, Dick knew that they had all been drawn from life...and all he could say was that his uncle certainly had good taste.

Snorting to himself, Dick jumped through the pages at a quicker rate -not that the girls weren't easy on the eyes, but the fact remained they weren't the reason he was here.

But as he neared the end, his smile disappeared.

Near the end, the drawing got darker and darker...showing scenes of rabid, crimson wolves with black swastikas for eyes, as they chased every innocent looking forest creature through the woods. It was like something out of an R-rated _Bambi -_ especially during gory scenes where the wolves ripped their victims apart.

 _...Forget movie-making,_ Dick thought with a weak attempt at humor, _Janos should have wanted to be a political cartoonist_.

Unfortunately, any attempt to lighten the mood fell on it's face with the next drawing...a flock of birds lying dead on the ground. _Beautiful_ birds -an eagle, dove, swan. A sparrow and thrush. And a robin. Behind them were a few burning wagons and smirking wolves. And to drive home the utterly _un-_ whelmed atmosphere...this was the first drawing with words attached to it.

It looked like a poem...though because it was written in a well-faded Hungarian, Dick couldn't read it.

 _...I'm so going to regret this._

Snatching his computer-watch, Dick scanned the words, and waited impatiently for the translation to come up. But when it did, he wished it hadn't. Turned out that it was an rendition of a old morning song -one that was normally sung at funerals when young men died. Only some of the lyrics had been changed.

 _I don't sing, I don't dance._

 _Our fate is sad._

 _God, what have we ever done._

 _That you allow these wolves to end our lives_

 _When we are all too young._

...After that Dick closed the journal and set it on the bed stand. He didn't want to look anymore. Not tonight.

But he didn't regret it. Not one bit.

* * *

 **Reviews make me happy, so tell me what you thought and i'll update sooner. Phew...longest chapter yet! I hope you all loved it... and I hope the ending gave you the shivers. What did you think was the best part? Now the plot will star to devolve.**

 **P.S Rikard and Elijah's escape was based on a real-life story. Also is Dick reaction to it still good? Still accurate?**


	8. Dick and Esther

**Black Target: Thank you so much, and it's fine. I'm glad you liked the poem and I hope you love this chapter.**

 **Piper1996: Yes, Dick does, and I hope that shines through here as well.**

 **Alaster Boneman : That's what I was going for.**

 **KaliAnn: Yes, but the realism is so important.**

 **In memory of Ellie Wiesel** **; Holocaust survivor, fantastic writer, and one inspiration for Elijah Goldson**

 **Sep 30, 1928 - Jul 02, 2016**

 **At long last, he is reunited with his family**

* * *

chapter 8

 _(From the journal of Elijah-Soren (began September 1938), written in German)_

 ** _November 16, 1938_**

 _It's been about a week since I left my old life behind...and been made to embrace this new one. I'm sorry I haven't written much but honestly -I didn't know what to say, how to put into words...are there words? In any language can words describe what has happen, and is happening?_ _But I feel that I must try -I must write, or I'll go mad. Also, in later years I want to have something to prove to myself that this was real, that I went on this journey_ _, after the craziness is over_ _._

 _But where to start?_

 _...I don't want to talk about home, so I will tell of my friends...my hiders, my new family. They have all been wonderfully to me in their own ways. Zoya and Dymitr are unendingly patience, explaining to me my chores, and not getting angry when I don't do it right the first time...(which is a lot, unfortunately.) The life of a gypsy on the road is hard. Work work work. and when that is done, more work. I do my best but I have never done anything like this in my life. (To my shame when my feet got bister's, they made me ride in the wagon with the women). I must be stronger._

 _Jan is trying to help with this, he makes me do push ups and curl ups everyday to built me up. He is also teaching me to box. "No one will believe you are gypsy if you can't fight," he saids. He also teaches his real brother. (But remembering Ferdy, I don't think Rudzik need lessons. It comes naturally to him.)_

 _Soraya and Rudzik are my life-line. Sometimes late at night, when I am missing home so badly I can't stand it, they curl around me like littermates, and Raya will sing. When I am down in the day-time, she will hug me. Rudzik doesn't. I think it's his way of not embarrassing me. I_ _appreciate that._ _I wonder how he feels about this, being made to grow up so fast, but he doesn't complain. What good would it do? Instead he is cheery and cracks jokes about the Germans. For example:_

 _"On this fine day, Hitler predicts reign with a strong chance of Heil."_

 _"I did Nazi that coming." (He saids this whenever something has surprised him.)_

 _"Her Hitler can't stand jokes about him, they make him fuhrerious." That's my favorite._ _Telling jokes like that would get him arrested back home (or worse)...but here in the woods, they have us in stiches. Here we are free._

 _Yours, Elijah **(name is scribbled out)** Soren_

 ** _Dezember 3, 1938_**

 _Well, today we have done it. We have made it into Hungary. Praise be to God. We are in the city of Sopron, driven there in a car by a man sympathy to our plight. I will not write his name here. To dangerous. We're in an inn that smells like a garbage heap, but we won't stay long. Jan saids we will go to Budapest -the capital._

 _I'm still getting use to being Soren...sometimes I don't answer when I'm called. So Rudzik calls me by his old nickname for me -Veréb...which is Hungarian for Sparrow (another language I'll have to learn). It's easier to remember as I'm familiar with it. Having two birds in the family now, we gave everybody else bird names as well._

 _Jan is Rigó (Thrush) as he is always working on something. (Even something stupid.)_

 _Raya is Hattyú (Swan) because she is beautiful but temperamental (She didn't appreciate that.)_

 _Zoya is Galamb (Dove) since she is the peacemaker._

 _Dymitr is Sas (Eagle) for obvious reasons._

 _Save for Raya (and she'll come around...eventually) they have all taken to their name with good humor. This will be how I'll refer to them here from now on._

 _...I'm nervous...there will be other gypsies in Budapest -this is the test of whether my disguise will work or not. Jan and Rudzik have been coaching me day in and day out for weeks, on Roma mannerisms and attitudes and my Romani is pretty good now...but I'm still afraid. After all if I mess up, it's not just me who will be done for -but all of us._

 _Yours,_ _Veréb_

* * *

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Groaning, Dick rolled onto his side, and blindly grope for the buzzer that would turn the blaring noise _off._ His hand struck his nightstand three times before it at last landed on the superman alarm-clock, and it took another few seconds for him to _finally_ hit the pause button (urgh -why did the makers always put it on the far side?); bringing blissful, blissful silence.

Afterwards, the boy flopped rather unceremoniously onto his back, rubbing his sore eyes with two fingers. Eyes that narrowed in confusion at the dark room he faced as he opened them. Sitting up now, Dick blinked rapidly. Why...why would it be dark? _This_ dark? How early _was_ it?

Turning his head to face his clock again, a disbelieving squawk escaped Dick as he mouthed the numbers to himself. Five-thirty. _A.M._

 _Why the heck_ would his clock go off at -

...But then he remember. Elijah. Esther. The story ( _his_ story). The _journals._

Dick remembered that before he had gone to sleep last night, he had set his alarm clock half an hour earlier than normal, so that he could have more time to explore the newly delivered treasures.

 _So what am I'm waiting for?_

Without sparing the subject another thought, the boy scrambled to his feet, and executed a perfect forward flip off the bed, making an Olympic worthy landing on the floor. Popping up, Dick make for the shower door, yanking his pajama shirt off with one hand, while reaching door-knob with the other. (Which only ended with him stubbing his toes _into_ said door -and releasing a string of words that would've had Alfred washing his mouth with soap.)

But he wasn't deterred. Not at all. Quickly stripping off the rest of his clothing, Dick took a shower in recorded time -to the point that when he stepped out, he still had suds in his hair, and soap in his eyes.

But he didn't care.

Heck, he barely bothered to dry himself off before he tossed on his school uniform that Alfred had left on his dresser. (He had a little trouble with pants, due to his scrawny chicken legs _kinda_ being wet; _aaand_ wound up pogo-stick hopping about the room on one foot -muttering even more words that would cost him his dessert.)

Still didn't care though -not when he was left with nearly twenty extra minutes.

Whooping silently, Dick tip-toed out his room, and darted down the hall to the banister. Without slowing down, he propel himself onto the rail and slide down to the ground-level effortlessly.

Without further adieu, he made his way to the study, where everything save Janos' drawing journal had been left for the night.

Only to find that someone had beaten him there.

* * *

"Oh, hello there," Esther Goldson said as Dick skitted to a halt in front of her, sitting up in her seat, and blinking owlishly at him. She was cross-legged in the same armchair her Grandfather had occupied last night, one of the journals and a couple of pictures spread-out in her lap.

Like Dick, Esther was already dressed for the day -in a dark blue tunic-blouse, and jet black leggings. Judging from the shine in her hair, she had just gotten out of the shower too.

"Hey," he answered, shoving his hands into his blazer's pockets, feeling more than a little awkward. He hadn't really spoken to the older teen yesterday...not really. Which was _so_ not normal for him -but nothing about yesterday had been normal. Today, there was no excuse.

He grinned at her. "I didn't think anybody would be up at this point -guess I'll have to try for five o'clock tomorrow huh?"

Esther smiled back, more reservedly, true, but a smile nonetheless. "Yes I suppose so," she agreed. She started to rise, quietly stacking the pictures into a neat little pile. "If you want to be alone, I can-"

"No, you don't have to go," Dick said quickly. "I was only kidding. It'll be nice to have some company."

Esther started, and cocked her head for a moment...but then that reserved smile became slightly broader. "Alright," she replied, "Thank you."

Dick shrugged good naturedly, "Don't mention it, your the guest here."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and sat back down in her armchair, gesturing for Dick to take the couch. When he did so, she cleared her throat meaningfully, cocking a eyebrow. "I assume your here for the same reason I am, yes?"

As she spoke, her long fingers pointedly tapped a pattern on the journal that was back on her lap.

Dick spread his hands guilty, "Well you caught me," he admitted, causing her lips to twitched. _Charming boy,_ she thought. Then more seriously, the boy added, "I just...I couldn't keep away."

Esther nodded slowly. "Yes...I understand that. You are thirteen, correct?"

"Correct."

The girl bit her lip, and looked downward at her hands. "I was your age when I found out about all this," she disclosed softly, "...when _Saba_ told me. I...I don't think I handled it as well as he probably hoped. Not like you."

Dick furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

The Israeli girl redden. "I fainted," she confessed. "Passed out cold on the kitchen floor the moment I saw his tattoo."

She swallow hard, and her gaze dropped back to her hands. "I-I couldn't take it at first...not like you," she repeated, almost mechanically. Her fingers curled into fists.

Dick leaned forward. "You shouldn't get down on yourself for that," he told her firmly. "Not gonna lie -yesterday I was pretty close to conking out myself...this stuff isn't easy to take, and we're only at the beginning."

Esther released a slow breath, her doe eyes drifting shut. "Yes...only the beginning. And it's not going to get any better," she said in a flat voice.

Dick eyed her carefully. "...You...you don't know how this all when down any more than me," he said softly, stating a fact rather than asking a question. "Do you?"

Well now _that_ was a question.

She was silent for a moment, her hand coming up to tug at her hair, curling it around her fingers almost aggressively. Then she shook her head.

"...No, I don't," she answered. "Obviously we know the ending, seeing that you and I are on this earth...but what _actually happen..._ I don't think even _Savta_ Miriam knew the whole story...only Rudzik."

She paused for a moment. "And now only him. He is...so alone Dick. So very alone."

* * *

They were both quiet for a minute after that. Then Dick broke the silence.

"Sooo what's that?" he asked, tilting his inky head at the journal. It was a plain thing, it's once red cover having decayed to a murky brown.

"Oh," Esther blinked, looking as though she had momentary forgotten it. She picked it up like the book was a solid diamond. "This is _Saba_ diary, the one he keep through the war. Well the first book of it anyways... _Saba_ finally gave me permission to read it...but I was to tired...that why I got up early."

"...Whoa," Dick breathed out. "Is it okay if I-?"

"Certainly," the girl answer without the slightest hesitation, reaching out, she passed the book into Dick out-stretched hands. "Go right ahead. Please be careful though."

"Totally," the boy reassured her. Taking the book, he performed a delicate exploration of it, running his hands over it'd thick spin, imagining the stories it held.

"...How much did you read?" he asked curiously, glaring up briefly.

"Just the first couple of pages," Esther told him. "From what I can figure, he got it for his birthday a few weeks before Kristallnacht...I got to the part where they just arrived in Hungary...you family sound like a great cast of characters. They just...light up his pages." She smiled, "He really loved them."

Dick grinned proudly. "That the Grayson's family magic -to know us is to love us."

Esther actually snorted, her eyes gleaming.

"...Can I asked you something?" Dick ventured.

The Israeli girl shrugged casually. "If you like."

"...Why did you guys come here? Why now?"

The gleaming in her eyes stopped, and Dick felt a sense of foreboding run down his spin. _Oh boy._

"...That's...well..." Esther cleared her throat, sifting uncomfortable in her seat. "That's a bit...complex, to put it mildly."

"...Try me."

* * *

 ** _Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update faster._**

 ** _Okay, so some one on one with Esther and Dick -which I hope reveled more about their charaters. How Did you like their thoughts on all this -especially Esther's concerning Elijah. And how was the diary at the beginning...and Rudzik's jokes (which were real, by the way)_**

 ** _Also Dick getting up early to look at a book -me throughout middle school._**


	9. Revelation

Alaster Boneman : Thanks, I hope Esther is good here too.

Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt :Thanks! I hope you like the jokes here to.

KaliAnn :Yes, realism is the goal.

* * *

Chapter 9

Budapest, Hungary

 **(From the journal of Elijah-Soren)**

 **December 20, 1938,**

 _Well, we are settled. Anya (Hungarian for Mama) Zoya saids that we are fortunate, very fortunate to have gotten a roof over our heads in such a short amount of time, as it is winter and the heavy snow is falling now. (We had to leave the wagon behind when we came into Hungary, so our first few nights were spent curled up in a church because the nuns felt sorry for us kids. It was good of them, but Apu (Hungarian for Papa) Dymitr was determined that we would not be charity cases. So first thing every morning, he and Jan would go out looking for work, and contacting old friends._

 _Sas has tons of goy* friends, some of them high up and powerful. Even though they left the circus (Rudzik and I sometimes wonder what has happened to them) the Graysons are well know in the artisans' community. One of the goys has gotten us a job in his restaurant, with the men playing the violin, (Janos saids that if a gypsy wants to eat, he needs to be a jack of all trades) and the girls dancing -Soraya gets us a lot of tips because Hattyú is a looker, and sometimes Sas and Galamb and Rigo get angry at her because she flirts to get those tips. They worry about something happening to her. She laughs that off._

 _...Me and Rudzik have no job, and no school. We can't have either until I speck Hungarian and won't give us away. So we're under quarantine, having nothing to do, or work on, besides teaching me. Its driving us crazy._

 _So we stay near our apartment. It is small, with only three rooms -meaning us three boys have to share...but I like it. We have hung woven blankets on the walls to give it a little color (not to mention some warmth)._

 _The best part is that the window is directly above the street, and I can watch the people going by-_

* * *

 _"Veréb, hey Veréb!"_

 _Elijah rolled his eyes as he looked up from his writing journal -already knowing what he was going to see. And sure enough, Rikárd soon came bopping in through the front door of the apartment, eyes bright and nose red from the cold._

 _His friend didn't even brother to take his coat off, only pausing to carelessly kick off his boots and stuff his mittens into his pockets as he made his way towards him, the grin on his face stating as clear as an open confession that the smaller boy was up to no good._

 _"What is it?" Elijah asked, smiling a bit himself as he turned from the window. Rudzik just had that effect._

 _"Veréb, a ton boys down the street are goin' have a massive snowball fight," Rudzik said, his excitement bubbling over the brim of his eyes, and spilling into his smile. "I'm going down, and you are too." _

_Elijah felt his own smile dissolve like sugar in sewer water. "Rud, you know I can't-"_

 _"Ah horse shit," was the Roma boy's verdict, with a wave of his hand. "You-"_

 _"Don't let Anya Zoya here you curse like that -she'll tan your backside," Elijah warned him sternly._

 _Rikárd narrowed his gaze into tiny silts. "Don't change the subject. You got to get in the fresh air sometimes...all you've done since coming here is write in your book and brood over everything. It's not healthy. Your going to turn into a old man if you don't stop and be a kid now and again."_

 _"I do not brood over everything!" the Jewish boy protested...but even as he said it, a sliver of doubt creeped into his mind. Did he brood to much? He...he had never thought so before. Sure, he liked to think, to exersice his mind, and make sense of things but-_

 _"Áldott Mária Valaha Szűz,"**_ _Rikárd murmured under his breath, staring at Elijah in disbelief. "Your doing it right now -your literally brooding on whether or not you brood!"_

 _Elijah turned red. "Okay maybe you have a point," he muttered._ _Rudzik rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Course I do...you won't have to talk_ _Veréb, just throw snowballs."_

 _Elijah bit his lip, the temptation was strong. "I don't know."_

 _Now Rudzik soften his voice " -Come on, Soren. It'll be just like old times...please?"_

 _"...Alright."_

 _Rikárd whooped, and before Elijah knew it, his coat was flying at him. Five minutes later the boys were bouncing down the stairs...and Elijah was having seconds thoughts._

 _"Rud are sure about this -I don't want to cause trouble after everything I owe you-"_

 _"Owe us?" Rudzik stopped in his tracks so suddenly, Elijah nearly knock them both down the remaining steps. "_ _Veréb what are you talking about?"_

 _Elijah stared at him. "You know what I'm talking about."_

 _But Rudzik shook his head firmly. "You don't own us anything Soren. Your my friend, and you needed a home, and mine had space to spare. That's all there is to it...Besides, you do the same for me right?"_

 _Elijah didn't even need to think. "In a heartbeat."_

 _Rikárd grinned. "Then that's all that matters."_

* * *

"Well, you see," Esther began carefully, her fingers mercilessly tugging at each other as she tried to answer the question. "...it's...I don't really know where to begin."

Dick leaned back in his seat, and softened his voice. "Why not begin at the beginning?" he suggested.

Esther blew out breath threw her nose, and nodded once. "Alright...I...I guess this all start last year in Israel, when my Uncle Isaac and his family were killed in a Palestinian bombing attack."

Dick felt his eyes grow to twice their normal size. "Oh man...I'm so sorry."

Esther smiled grimly. "Not any sorrier than we were, I assure you. His death...when _Saba_ got the news, it nearly killed him I think. _Savta_ Miriam had passed away earlier that year...and Isaac was his youngest child...he was just thirty-two."

Esther sighed now, gazed sadly downward into her lap. "And Uncle Isaac isn't even the first child _Saba's_ lost...that was my Dad and Uncle Benjamin...Dad was in the world trade center on business when the Towers came down...and Ben died fighting al-Qaeda tying to avenge him."

Now Esther clenched her hands. "So in less than a decade, Saba lost almost all of the family he'd rebuilt after the war destroyed it...all he has left is me, and Aunt Naomi."

Dick had nothing to say to that...what the heck _could_ you say that? From what he was hearing, the amount of tragedy that made up Elijah Goldson's life seemed to dwarf that began the careers of most superheroes...and _that_ was saying something.

"After all of this, Aunt Naomi moved to North America, and try to convince us to move in with her...and she didn't have to try very hard. _Saba_ loved Israel...but he decided that enough of his family had died for her," here the girl paused, and bit her lip. "And he wanted to get me away before I was seventeen..."

Dick furrowed his brow. "Why? What would happened?"

"I would have joined the army."

Dick blinked, not sure if he'd heard that right. "Ah...come again?" he said in a blank tone.

Esther sighed. "In Israel, every citizen has to serve two years in the army. It mandatory...kinda like your draft, I suppose."

"But...y-your a girl-" Dick stuttered. Esther raised her eyebrows. "Well noted," she commented airily.

"They draft _girls?"_

Esther nodded slowly, growing serious again. "Yes... _Saba_ has always hated that. He feels that a country shouldn't put their daughters -or granddaughters- on the front lines fighting savages...but it's how it is. But _Saba_ always said he be dead in his grave before he let me go even in a non-combated role. He had to endure it with Naomi, he wasn't going to do it with me."

Dick bit his lip, and ran a hand threw his hair, tugging at his bangs. "Can't say I blame him," he offered quietly. "I'd probably be the same way, if I were him."

Esther nodded slowly, and abruptly changed the subject. "So anyways, we ended up moving to Toronto, up in Canada. And low and behold, not even a year after we settle down, Haly's Circus rolls into town."

* * *

Oh man. Dick felt his stomach sink as the reality of the information hit him. "Did he- I mean...he _knew_ that Grandpa was gone by then _right?_ He...he didn't show up looking for-"

"Oh no," Esther said quickly. "No. He knew Rudzik was dead...but he...he also knew that your family had been working at Haly's, so _Saba_... _Saba_ thought he might get a change to see them. He knew your dad, a little, and wanted to meet your mother. And he really, _really_ , wanted to meet _you_."

The Israeli girl's smile turned wobbly. "He...he was so excited. Just like a little kid. He keep telling Aunt Naomi and me about his first time to the circus, and how he met Rikárd and Janos. And we had... _fun._ So much fun."

Then her smile dissolved altogether. "But when there wasn't an acrobat act...he knew something was wrong. He just knew, right then and there. Aunt Naomi tried to calm him down...but he couldn't."

Dick dropped his head, and swallowed hard. He glared down at the Persian rug so hard, it was a miracle he didn't burn a hole in it.

"After the show," Esther continued all in a detached tone, like she was telling about an event that happened to somebody else. "He when straight to the ringmaster...and the man must have know him, because Mr. Haly -he took us all back to his trailer. And he told us what happen to your parents."

" _Saba_... _Saba_ was so broken -he couldn't even cry. Me and Naomi...we were sobbing. But Saba's pain...it was beyond tears."

The girl's lips thinned, and her hand quickly swiped at her eyes. "That was the end of our fun night."

* * *

"Once _Saba_ gathered his wits, his first question was what had happened to you...and when Mr. Haly told him...he wasn't impressed to say the least. He couldn't wrap his head around that you weren't allowed to stay with circus."

Dick snorted, the old emotions of his bewildered eight-year-old self coming back to him, as plain as day. "Yeah, him and me both."

"But just being told you were alive in a foreign city wasn't enough for him," Esther relied. "He started doing research -well Naomi and I did the actual research- to track you down."

Esther shuddered. "You should have seen his face when we learned that the Gotham CPS put you into juvenile detention...it's a miracle that our house didn't collapse...and after learning who had taken you out of it...well... _Saba_ was concern."

"What do you mean?" Dick asked, curiosity lining his face. The girl seemed hesitant to answer, and did so cautiously.

"Well...you have to understand that given the...image...that Mr. Wayne projects of himself, _Saba_ was worried that he wasn't erm...taking care of you -properly that is."

Blinking, Dick sat up straighter -not really knowing how to respond to that. His first instinct was to leap to Bruce's defense, guns blazing...but common sense pulled in this impulse, and made him think...

Dick knew that Bruce did project an aura of carelessness to the wider world, for the purpose of throwing people of the trail of Batman.

If anything, Esther's words were a compliment to their acting skills...and suddenly, Elijah's words from yesterday when they'd met made sense.

"Kay," he said steadily, gesturing for her to keep going. The girl's shoulders slumped with visible relief at his words, and did so much improved ease.

"I think...I think this was the first priority of this trip -to make sure you were all right, and that Mr. Wayne was treating you well...and if he wasn't...to offer you a home that would."

* * *

 **Review make me happy so if you want more, tell me what you think and I'll update sooner.**

 **Okay, did any of you guys see that coming? How did you like the Goldson's backstory, and what set them on a quest to find Dick...and if necessary, offer a home?**

 **Also, I hope you like Rudzik and Elijah's bit about brooding about brooding...**

 ***goy- non-jewish**

 ** _**Áldott Mária Valaha Szűz -Blessed Mary Ever Virgin...Rudzik's at the limit of his patience_**


	10. Breakfest

Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt: You want more -here it is! And how are you doing?

Black target: Plot development coming right up.

KaliAnn : I hope you get a kick out of the end.

Alaster Boneman : Thank you, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

 **chapter 10**

 **Budapest, Hungary**

September 1, 1939

"Okay _Veréb,"_ _Rikárd said lightly, pointing at a passing tram as they leaned out the window. "What that?"_

 _Soren chew his lip for a moment as he searched his brain for the answer. He knew it, he knew it. It was on the tip of his...and then he had it._

 _"Villamos," he announce with a grin._

 _Rikárd grinned back. "Good...and what's that?" He pointed to the old tree that grew on the street corner. That one Elijah could shoot out right away. "Fa."_

 _"And what's_ that?"

 _Here the target of his finger was a snobblish-looking woman of questionable proportions._

 _Soren smirked. "Kövér...fat."_

 _Rudzik howled with laughter, and nearly fell off the window seat. "Th-that's not what I had in mind," the boy said between gasps, his eyes watering with mirth. "But it's right all the same!"_

 _Soren beamed and was about to reply...when the door was flung open with a furious bang; Janos and Raya flying inside like the devil was at their heels. The looks on their faces' killed their fun._

 _As if somebody had flipped a switch,_ _Rikárd sat up, instantly growing alert and became serious. "What's-"_

 _"Rudzik, be quiet," Soraya commanded as Janos turned on the radio with shaking hands...Jan's hands never shook. Soren felt ice gather in his gut. "What's going on?" he asked in a small voice._

 _Jan glared at him out of the corner of his eye, and Elijah could feel himself being evaluated, so he raised his chin and tried to stand taller. It must have work, because the older boy finally gave him an answer._

 _"Germany's invaded Poland."_

 _Soren's mind glitched. Invade...invaded Poland? No...no it couldn't be...Hitler already had Austria and the Sudetenland...what more could he need?_

 _"They couldn't have,"_ _Rikárd_ _said, eyes wide._

 _Jan laughed bitterly. "Oh yes they can. They did. It's war."_

 _By this time, he had gotten their old radio to work, and the wheezing voice that spilled from it so confirmed what Jan had said. England and France had declared war on Germany. It was war._

 _"...Holy shit."_

 _"We're so lucky we came to Hungary when we did," Raya whispered. "It would be to late now..."_

 _Elijah didn't hear her. He didn't hear anything. All he knew was that the door to any early reunion with his parents had been forever shut._

* * *

 _"I think...I think this was the first priority of this trip -to make sure you were all right, and that Mr. Wayne was treating you well...and if he wasn't...to offer you a home that would."_

That single sentence ran on loop inside Dick's mind, long after he and Esther left the study. He hadn't even gotten a chance to response, or even think a response, before Alfred was suddenly standing in the doorway to inform them that breakfast was ready, and it would be prudent of them to make their way to the kitchen. Their guardians would be joining them shortly. So they did, leaving Esther's revelation hanging in the air between them as the trudged down the hallway -the boy could almost feel it's fingers griping his shoulder.

...They always ate breakfast in the kitchen, for some reason. Probably because it was less formal for an early meal -Dick had often found himself wishing that they could eat every meal with such informality...but he knew that Alfred would never go for it, and that it was a pipe dream.

So was it really a surprise that the morning meal was his favorite meal of the day? No fancy dinning hall, no overly neat school cafeteria that looked to nice for a kid to even _think_ about a food fight...even you were even allowed the privilege of _having_ a seat.

Dick let out a sigh, and ran his hand threw his hair again. No, breakfast was the best by a long shot -sitting on a stool in from of the counter, munching on a bagel, or the absolute _best_ blueberry pancakes, with Bruce sitting besides him calmly sipping his coffee, often looking more relaxed than at any other time. Almost to the point where his guardian actually seemed...happy. And content.

Eating breakfast in the kitchen was the one time of the day Dick could honestly forget rest of the world, and pretend that he, Bruce, and Alfred were another normal household -a normal family. A normal home.

 _Home._ And just like that, the boy's mind was back where it's started. And as he hopped on top his stool, his balled-up fists pressed against his pants until his knuckles were white. Reaching out, he snatched a cup of orange juice and passed it to Esther before he gripped his own with a thinly masked fervor.

 _They had wanted to give him a home._

Not gonna lie...he was _...touched._ Really he was. Just the thought of it brought a warmth to his chest, not unlike the wild burst of hope and self-worth that flooded his eight year old self, back when Bruce sprung him from juvie. To a kid, _nothing_ mattered more than knowing that someone valued you, wanted you. And the idea that a friendship from seventy years ago could inspired such inter-generational loyalty was...awe inspiring.

Dick didn't often feel his height...but learning this sure made him feel it now.

And...well...in the early days after Bruce had brought him to the maner...Dick had spent entire nights wondering what would have become of him, if Bruce hadn't found it in his heart to take him in. He had been haunted by the thought -more so than the boy cared to admit, even to himself. And while he _didn't_ think about much...sometimes you just couldn't _help_ it, or help the ice that would build up in your gut, at realizing just how well and truly _screwed_ you would have been, if fate had played differently.

The knowledge that there would have been a second party, a second chance -even one a few years down the line- went a long way to helping break the ice down.

(Of _cooouurse_ though, Dick had to admit he _really_ didn't like thinking about how much of him would've still been there, if he had been force to wait for the Goldsons. But he digess).

* * *

Breakfast was nonpareil, as usual. And due to the presents of guests, Alfie had really rolled out all the stops. Eggs and bacon cooked to perfection, bagels smeared with just a dash of butter to make it melt seamlessly on the golden brown surface -it was all Dick could do not to just scoop on of it onto his plate (which was probably why Bruce would often dryly remarked that it was a wonder he was still so skinny, but hey, running over roof-tops every night would do that to you.)

But he restrained himself. As the guests, it was only fit that Esther and Elijah (who by this point had arrived with Bruce) got first dips. And not gonna lie...it was pretty darn funny to watch their eyes grow three times larger when they took their first bite. (Had he looked like that when he first arrived?)

" _Goot Got_!" the elderly man had exclaimed, his eyes dancing like a child's. "I think I've have die and gone to _Himmel_."

"Then I've die with you _Saba_ ,"Eshter muttered around a mouthful of egg. "This is _perfect_."

"'Course it is," Dick grinned. "Alfie here wouldn't settle for making anything else, would ya Alfie?"

"Yes, but it is not a matter of pride Master Dick-" At that Bruce snorted into his coffee mug, which he quickly tried to turn into a chough as the Butler leveled him with a look that was for all intends and purposes the prototype Batglare. Alfred wasn't fooled for a second, but was willing -for the shake of decorum- to let the matter drop...for now. "It is simply a matter of standards. It would hardly be advisable for a host to serve uneatable food now would it?"

"Alfred, you wouldn't know the meaning of uneatable food if it bit you," Dick laughed.

"And I intend to keep it that way..." the Englishman replied steady from behind the counter, wiping his hands with a towel. Pausing, he then added, "And speaking of uneatable food... Mr. West called the house last night. Apparently you had told him you would contact him on your cell-phone, and he was concerned when you failed to do so."

Dick's eyes immediately grew to twice their normal size. "Ah man!" he exclaimed, clasping a hand to his head. "I totally forgot!"

On reflex, the boy stated to fish around his pocket, intending to pull out his phone and check it for the hundred-some massages he was sure was there. But before he could fully do so, Alfred pointedly cleared his throat, looking down his nose at the action as if it had mortally offended him. "Master Dick, I think that activity would best be left for the car ride to school, wouldn't you agree?"

It might have been phrased as a question, but the tone left little doubt that it was anything but.

Dick shoved the device back in his pocket as if it had set his hand on fire, causing Esther to giggle, Bruce to smirk, and Goldson to chuckled heartily. "Oh yes..." he sigh. "Just like Mrs. Dorn..."

Still laughing, the old man reached out with his utensils -fork held in his left hand and knife in his right, European style- to swipe another bagel from the plate, causing the sleeve of his jacket to ride up, and a very prominent tattoo to be reveled on his arm - Z-9268- the crude blue ink shinning faintly in the light of their kitchen. And you have to be crazy to think that wouldn't put a damper on things. All their laughter die away.

He shouldn't stare -Dick knew he shouldn't...but he couldn't help it, and the training that Batman had given him on how to read into tattoos only made it worse. The numbers were sloppy, uneven and jagged -indicating that whomever did it had done it quickly, without much regard. The first few were also a little blurrier than the last...which told the boy that Elijah had probably flinched away at first before settling down. Or being held down.

And on a personal note...Dick's mind flashed back to his Grandfather, and _his_ tattoo. Z-9267. One number below his friend...meaning that they had gotten them at the same time, one after the other.

Dick couldn't decide if the thought was comforting or horrible.

Thankfully, Elijah Goldson was more than capable of choosing for him. Without looking the least bit dramatic, the old man calming rolled his sleeve back a bit more, so they could have a better view. "You know," Goldson informed them steadily, as if he was only asking them to pass the salt. "There is more to this tattoo that you would think."

They all looked up at that. "More?" Dick asked, unable to keep the faint hint of disbelief from his tone. What more could there possible be to a tattoo that was meant to steal your humanity?

* * *

Goldson nodded sagely. "Yes _zun_ , more. Much more...we made a sort of...game of it, if you would."

"A _game?"_ That was from Bruce.

Elijah nodded once, slowly, his head doing a careful bob up and down like a fishing poll floater. "Yes..." he replied, his tone distant. "Me and Rikárd...we would give our numbers meaning -make it into a kind of code, if you would. Something unique only to us. For example, look here-"

Tapping his pointer finger on the Z of his tattoo, he began to explain. "This stood for _Zigeuner_ to the Germans...Gypsy. But we made it to _zaftig..._ meaning well-figured woman _."_

Esther sighed, and Dick bite back a snort.

"...Any particular reason you chose that?" Bruce inquired after a moment.

Elijah arched an eyebrow. "You mean besides the obvious?"

The billionaire's lips twitched. "Good point," he allowed.

Winking an eye, Goldson continued, moving his figure down the line in a steady manner. "Next is the 9...which in German is pronounced _no_...as in _no-I-will-not-die, not here not now_...2...for the twin lives I had lived before the war...6 for six people who I had to stay alive with...and 8 for good luck."

It was only when he came to the end of the numbers did Goldson pause.

"...You see...survival is not only physical...it is mental. What use is there in have your body survive, if your mind is not with it? Playing our game kept us sharp...and we got so good at it that people would ask us to make their numbers mean something as well. And God knows it felt good. Like we were fight back."

* * *

After breakfast was over, and the dishes cleared away, Goldson approached Bruce as the younger man picked up his briefcase while his ward sweep his backpack onto his shoulder with ease.

"Mr. Wayne, I don't mean to be a bother, but you wouldn't happen to know the general direction of the town of Newmen would you?"

Startled, Bruce straightening. "Yes I do. It's a suburb outside of Bludhaven. Why?"

Goldson shrugged as he rose to his feet, placing a baseball cap on his head. "I have an old friend who lives there with his family, I think it would be good to drop him a line."

"An..." Dick said hesitantly, though his eyes were urgent. "An old friend from... _before?"_

Bruce threw him a warning glace. "Dick..."

"No, no," Goldson reassured him. "It is fine...and yes, he is an old friend from before. So it would be a downright crime not to visit him."

"Do you need transportation?" Bruce asked at once. "I could arranged for Alfred to take you there and back. Do you have an address?"

" _Nein, nein_ Mr. Wayne, that won't be needed at all. Esther can call for a cab-"

Alfred cleared his throat at that. "Yes, but Master Elijah, I feel obliged to inform you that Gotham's cab system...leaves little to be desire."

Which was Alfred-speak for "cab drivers in this city love to cheat old people and out-of-towners."

"It would be a privilege to accompany you to your friend's."

* * *

After some consideration, Elijah agreed. And as they all headed for the door, Dick suddenly remembered to ask if it would be alright if he brought one of the pictures to school with him.

" _Zun_ ," Elijah had answered. "From the moment I gave them to you, they became yours to do with as you please."

So that was how Dick came to be seated in the back of a Rolls Royce, the group picture of Elijah with his relatives in one hand, and his cell in another.

 _7:10 To Wall-man: Heh u there?_

 _7:10 From Wall-man: DUDDDE been trying 2 reach u foreverrrrrr!_

 _7:10 To Wall-man: I know I know sorry. But something big came up._

 _7:11 From Wall-man: more important than your best friend?_

 _7:11 To Wall-man: hit the nail on the head_

 _7:11 From Wall-man: if it's anything less than inter-denemtional incident I'm not buying it_

 _7:11 To Wall-man: inter-DIMESNIONAL west and a family member showed up at my school yesterday_

 _7:11 From Wall-man: family member?1?! WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAAAAAAAAATTTTTT?!1_

 _7:11 From Wall-man: WHATWHATWHATWHATWHATWHAT_

 _7:11 From Wall-man:_ _WHATWHATWHATWHAT come on man you can't not reply 2 that WHATWHATWHAT_

 _7:12 To Wall-man: not all of us can type a thousand words per min Wally..._

 _7:12 From Wall-man: Right. Sorry...so WHAT?! U always said u didn't have any family another than your folks_

 _7:12 To Wall-man: I didn't think I did ether. Come over after school 2day and I tell u everything._

 _7:12 From Wall-man: ah come on u cant just leave me hanging!_

 _7:12 From Wall-man: Dick u there?_

 _7:13 From Wall-man: oh u did NOT just hang up on me_

 _7:13 From Wall-man: Dick?_

 _7:13 From Wall-man: ...Jerk..._

* * *

 **Review make me happy so if you want more, tell me what you think and I'll update sooner.**

 **Poor Wally, best friends with a troll. So yeah, he's going to pop back into the story, help Dick sort somethings out, and probably chase after Esther a little -poor girl.**

 **What did you think of the beginning, where Dick is thinking over the Goldson's would be offer, and why he loves breakfast so much?**


End file.
